Dream of Me
by Twisted Love Stories
Summary: Set during and after their third meeting in the Baltimore Asylum. Clarice Starling and Dr. Hannibal Lecter continue their 'Quid Pro Quo' arrangement but the answers he receives are not at all what he expected.
1. Quid Pro Quo

**Dream of Me**

**Twisted Love Stories**

**Chapter One**

Carrying with her an unshakable feeling of foolishness, Clarice Starling made her way down the dimly lit corridor, ignoring hisses aimed at her by the occupants of the cells to either side of her. She allowed her fingers to curl a little tighter on the handle of her briefcase. unconsciously she fixed the neck of her blouse before she reached the last cell.

Again, Doctor Hannibal Lecter stood in the centre of his cell. A devilish smirk played at his lightly pink lips. He greeted her with a nod, requesting she sit on the chair that Barney had set out for her. She set down her briefcase and sat, crossing her legs.

"Good afternoon, Clarice," he was the first to break the silence, his maroon eyes piercing. Rather than finding them unsettling though, Starling was fascinated. Perhaps those eyes were how he noticed even the tiniest of details. It was because of the ability she knew he possessed that she had little hope he wouldn't notice the rings beginning to form under her eyes.

"Doctor Lecter, I thought I'd drop by and keep you company for an hour or so. I hope you don't mind."

"Oh not at all Clarice. I quite enjoy your company. It's a pleasant change to have someone here worth conversing with."

She nodded appreciatively, "Yes, thank you."

"It's my turn to ask you a question I believe." he stated tilting his head, waiting.

"Go Doctor."

"Right then." He paused a moment to consider the woman seated on the other side of the glass. She tried to appear relaxed.

His mind ticked. "You haven't been sleeping properly. What's keeping you awake, Clarice?"

Against her will, her muscles tensed with the sudden flood of panic.

_Dammit._

"Don't lie or I'll know."

She shrugged half-heartedly. "Nothing interesting; just a dream."

He narrowed his eyes and every shadow in the room flew to outline his two crimson orbs.

"That's not an entire answer, my dear. What is this dream about? What does it involve?" he urged her to continue.

She swallowed hard and silently refused to meet his gaze.

_You're not to tell him anything personal, Starling. Believe me; you don't want Hannibal Lecter inside your head._

Well it was a bit late for that. He was going to find out eventually.

"You're in it actually," she said as casually as possible, all the while her heart fluttered like a hummingbird in her ribcage.

He lifted his eyebrows and pursed his lips, feigning surprise.

"I see. And where is this… _dream_ of yours set?" His curiosity was obscured by the danger in his seldom used voice.

_Shitshitshitshitshitshit-_

"In the room you're standing in, Doctor." She replied finally meeting his gaze.

The little voice in her head sarcastically slow clapped. _Well done Cee. Now compose yourself, stand, and leg it all the way to Australia. Change your name to something with 'azza' on the end of it. You'll fit right in._

The corridor narrowed and the concrete walls closed in around her, the last ounce of breath wheezing out of her lungs in a shuddered breath. The glass only seemed to magnify his stare. She felt ridiculous.

_Sharing dreams with a serial killer? Really Starling? You're like a teenager again, talking on the phone while absent-mindedly curling the phone cord around your finger. What are you supposed to say huh? Giggle and whisper 'hey, did you dream of me too?'_

The look in the Doctor's eyes was one of amusement. The smirk was back.

She shrugged off the little voice, "No big deal, we were just-"

"_We_, Agent Starling?" he cut her off. His smirk was turning into a grin, growing wider with every verbal blunder she made.

"Oh, yes. You and… We were in that room..." Her eyes darted around his cell for an escape, a topic change, anything.

"You believe that is unacceptable Clarice? That you dream such things? What would Ol' Jackie Boy have to say about that, hmm?" He paused for a moment, his grin remaining but his eyes were dead serious. "What was the nature of the dream Clarice?"

"It's my turn to ask you something Doctor," she replied with more confidence.

"So it is."

The illusion of control was again hers, somewhat. She took a deep breath before continuing.

"What was Benjamin Raspail's relation to 'Buffalo Bill'?"

"Now that question has quite a story behind it," he brought his hand to rest under his chin, deep in thought.

* * *

><p>The ambitious Clarice Starling leaned forward eagerly in her chair as Dr. Lecter finished telling her of Benjamin Raspail and Jame Gumb, though of course he didn't refer to him by name. Where's the fun in that? Then Starling would leave and be too busy to come back for talks. And how Hannibal Lecter coveted for an intellectual conversation. Besides, he needed her. His plan wouldn't work otherwise.<p>

"Did you ever meet Buffalo Bill or see a picture of some description?" her West Virginian accent creeped in like mist under a closed-door.

"Indeed I did Clarice, but that is another question entirely. Now it's my turn to ask you something, is it not?" his deep, metallic voice was daring and it sent shivers up and down her spine. She crossed her hands in her lap and stared him squarely in the face as she anticipated and dreaded the question as the words formed themselves on his lips.

"What was the nature of you dream, Clarice?" his voice barely above a whisper. Her heart was pounding again. She dropped her eyes to her feet.

"I don't imagine the answer is on those second grade shoes."

"It was less than professional." she managed to mumble.

"Look at me, Clarice,"

_Sorry, I choose life._

He was still waiting for her. He could see her battling with herself but in the end it was obvious who had won. She was a warrior.

With faux confidence, she trailed her eyes up his legs, his toned stomach, his chest, his neck, his chin, then she paused for a moment before shifting in her chair and looking into his eyes. A long silence hung over them before he finally drew a deep breath and began to speak.

"Why did you tell me truth so easily, Clarice? Why didn't you simply find a way around the question like I'm sure you do with so many others? Questions that you don't want to know the answers to even though your unconscious mind knows them already…"

_Here we go_, she thought, way _to make an idiot of yourself Clarice._

"I told you, Dr. Lecter," she began, "because someone possessing your vast knowledge on the human mind should have no trouble at all finding out, and in my opinion, this way saves us, and Catherine Martin, a considerable amount of time."

He seemed to consider that for a moment. "Very good Clarice, but I think there's a little more to it than just saving time. Why did you really tell me, hmm?"

_You've got to be kidding! Why must he see every goddamn thing? Ugh. __What else is there to consider? Surely I don't _like_ him. No of course not… that's reaching just a bit… but its true that I'm just a bit turned on by the gentleman thing he's got going on… shut up Starling. _

"Why don't you tell me Doctor, since you know everything? I think it's my turn to ask something anyway."

He smiled, a sight that would frighten most.

"Very well. Remember though, you asked for it,"

_Crap…_

Doctor Lecter, as always, took advantage of the situation quickly and effortlessly. Clarice quickly realised her fault as soon as he opened his mouth to speak.

'I think you told me, Agent Starling,' he began, 'because somewhere deep down beneath that rough exterior of a girl who has endured already one too many of life's hardships, you _want _me to know of this dream, perhaps even wish me to share it with you,'

_And I'm certainly not saying I haven't…_

'I believe Clarice, that you wish for me to be the one person, save your dear, dead daddy, that understands you. The _whole_ you. You want me to see into every dark corner of your mind, even if it truly is painful. You're trusting me with your mind and for that, I thank you… but that's not all is it?' he paused for a moment and Starling shifted uncomfortably in her seat.

_This is it, _he thought,_ I've got her…_

And then Clarice did something that one only witnesses once every twenty or so years. She surprised him.

'I'm terribly sorry to interrupt Doctor, but I'll have to stop you there for just a moment if you'll permit me.' It wasn't a question. Even if it was, she left no time for a debate.

"What you didn't see is that my daddy never did understand me and one might even go to such lengths as to say that it is because of him and his failure to carry out his service that I felt it compulsory to pick up where he left off and found my place in a corrupt law enforcement agency where no one understands me still… but I believe you do Doctor Lecter. Maybe it's your great knowledge or your being in a career that demands that you understand people… or maybe you know from personal experience. Do you know what it feels like to lose all those that you hold dear… and did you want so desperately to save just one small part… but you just weren't strong enough?

"Maybe you know what it's like to wake up at night to that one nightmare that has haunted your sleep since childhood. You wake up in a cold sweat but it still rings in your ears like a church bell in an empty cathedral and you just cant stop it…" She noticed his rigid stance and hard stare, but not a moment later, his composure returned as though calm rolled down from his hairline to cover his face.

Outwardly, he was the pinnacle of calm but in his mind, doors to the darkest rooms of his memory palace swung open and thoughts he had long since locked away flooded out in a tidal wave of painful. His sister, his dear baby sister smiled at him from behind his eyes and he remembered the sound of the axe falling - the wounded dear running in the snow. Clarice looked at him from behind the glass and he could tell that she was as shocked as he had been. Was she shocked at his wordless response or that she had been right? Probably both. He smiled to himself.

_This will certainly be interesting…_


	2. Among Monsters and Men

**Twisted Love Stories**

**Dream of Me**

**Chapter Two**

Neither of them spoke. Neither knew what to say. It was only when the sound of cheap men's shoes echoed down the hallway that Doctor Lecter shifted.

_He is so still…_

"Doctor Chilton I presume. He's been wearing the same atrocious after shave for the last three years…" he seemed lost in thought.

"I guess our hour is up Doctor. I'm sure I'll be seeing you though… if you'll tolerate my company that is." Her tone was noticeable uneven and she had to fight to keep it under control. She didn't think Dr. Lecter would pick up on it now though. It was as if he were severely distracted.

'Yes...' he was almost inaudible. Clarice had to strain her ears to understand his words as his lips barely moved. "I'm sure I'll be seeing you Clarice." The way he said it was… different. As if there was more to it than just friendly candor. Clarice was shaken from her reverie as Doctor Lecter shifted again to steeple his fingers under his chin.

"He's not a real Doctor you know," Lecter said thoughtfully. It was a whisper that he made just loud enough for Chilton to hear. The obvious embarrassment and anger came out in his harsh tone. Clarice tried not to smile.

"Ms. Starling, if you'll follow me." he was standing beside her now, his hand merely hovering above her elbow as if to hurry her along with an invisible force field.

"That's _Agent_ Starling to you, Frederick." Lecter clarified disapprovingly. Chilton opened his mouth in protest but quickly thought better of it and shut it again with an audible _snap. _He simply grunted in acknowledgement and averted his eyes to Lecter's empty cell and smiled to himself. Clarice noticed his smugness and decided on some mind games of her own.

"Right. If there's nothing else then…' he motioned toward the exit.

'There is something actually.' she refrained from using his title. The obvious annoyance billowing from Chilton pleased her immensely.

'I would like Doctor Lecter's drawings and uh…' she looked uncomfortably around the cell, 'his toilet seat returned. If you would be so kind as to do that then I'll be out of your hair for a while." she crossed her arms and looked him squarely in the eye. Was that embarrassment she saw?

"Miss, uh, _Agent_ Starling, the affairs of this asylum do not concern you. We have a certain way of doing things here. We will not, for whatever reasons you might be suggesting, deviate from them because you ask _nicely_." he mocked.

"Frederick, can I call you Frederick?" No response. 'Great. Now listen carefully. I'm not asking you; let me make that very clear. If I don't see Doctor Lecter's cell back to normal when I come back - and that includes his personal artwork which I believe he is very much entitled to - then I will have no problem at all reporting you and your hospital."

Chilton stood completely taken aback for a moment, eyes wide, before composing himself, clearing his throat and replying with somewhat of a disappointing surrender.

"Just one more thing Agent Starling," he called to her as she began walking away. She turned, hands clasped in front of her innocently. "When you say that you'll come back, where exactly do you think you'll be going, hmm?"

"I'm sorry?"

"Oh didn't your _superiors _tell you?" he began to smile. He didn't notice the cold glare he was receiving from Lecter as he continued.

"Tell me what?" she was growing tired of his smugness.

He tapped his pen on his teeth, "Well your boyfriend here is being transferred."

Starling couldn't help but gawk. _This man's more insane than Miggs._

"You didn't think I hadn't heard of your little deal with Senator Martin, did you? See, I called the Senator and she didn't know of any deal. She does now. I invented it."

_Oh… my… god… he was listening to our conversation. He had to have been. And then he to top it off he ships our largest source of evidence away and puts the FBI on the wrong side on the Senator. That's it. I will support my stance as a woman and refrain from slapping this moron purely because of Dr. Lecter's company. But rest assured, this man - if he could be called that - _will_ be filed with a law suit for obstruction of justice as soon as I can get a hold of Crawford._

Clarice was fuming. "Where are you transferring him to?" when Chilton remained silent she turned to Lecter. "Did you know?" she lowered her voice.

"I learnt of my being moved just before you arrived. Why didn't I tell you? Well hasn't it been fun finding out? I certainly think so."

She left the asylum without another word and was dialling Crawford's phone number before she had even reached the car. He picked up on the second ring.

"Crawford." he answered coolly.

"Sir I have to speak with you. It's about Lecter."

"Starling? What happened?" concern was adamant in his tone.

"Chilton found out about our phony offer to Lecter and decided that he would make a real one. He's being transferred."

Silence consumed the other end of the line before a breathy sigh crackled through the speaker. "I know." he stated simply.

"When did you find out?"

"Only about ten minutes ago, Starling. He's being transferred tonight to a lock up in Memphis temporarily and then as soon as everything is sorted he's going straight to Brushy Mountain State Prison, Tennessee. I'm sorry."

Clarice was silent for a moment as she planned her next course of action.

"Starling?"

"I'm here sir. I want to know if it's possible I be there for the transfer. I know it isn't compulsory but…"

'There will be reporters and press swarming all over the place Starling. Not to mention Senator Martin. It just isn't possible."

She thought about that for a moment before replying. "Where in Memphis?"


	3. Close Encounter

**Twisted Love Stories**

**Dream of Me**

**Chapter Three**

Her foot tapping incessantly on the vinyl floor mat of her rented car overshadowed the distasteful music playing on the radio. Clarice was growing more and more anxious. Sitting doing nothing caused her to think. She didn't want to think. She had no desire in letting her subconscious tell her why she was here on her own accord. Sure, he was helping with the case but he had given the authorities all the information he claimed to know. Even though Clarice knew that Doctor Lecter knew more than he said, she also knew he would not say any more. Why was that?

He knew this was Clarice's first real case - that this was her big chance to show the FBI she was good enough. Did he _want_ her to figure it out? That was an interesting theory but he had given them a name. Why?

Like a lioness going in for the kill, Clarice was reaching for a note pad and a pen.

_Louise Friend? I don't think so Doctor. _

_S_he began scrawling on the pad, crossing out letters, thoughts churning like her nervously twitching stomach. After ten minutes of scribbles, Clarice brought her hand down hard on the dash. _Fool's Gold. _It's a goddamn anagram. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. Once she had calmed down she checked the time. 7:36. _Great,_ she thought, now I'm back to the original predicament. She had more than enough time to think, and now she couldn't stop the gears as they turned.

_Why are you here Starling? And don't give me that _all part of the job _crap. You know damn well what this is about… you're still thinking about that dream. You've got to let it go. Just forget about it Starling. You think it's going to get you a promotion if Jack Crawford or anyone else finds out about you having feeling for a smart ass sociopathic serial killer with a penchant for knives and the taste of human flesh? Stop. Back up a bit… have feelings for? Did you actually just admit that you had romantic feelings towards Hannibal Lecter? Well this certainly isn't good. Just breathe. That's okay. Just brush it off. You should be great at that by now. Act professional… Pff yeah as if that one was ever going to work. Nice try though. So why can't you just forget it? Because… this isn't the same. Well thankyou captain obvious! Of course this isn't the same thing. I'm pretty sure none of your past crushes have been insane. Oh but if you closed your eyes and listened to him speak it would be so easy to imagine him as just a perfect gentleman that you met in a coffee shop. That was all just part of the dream though wasn't it? You meet him in a lovely little café and then BAM! You're lying in his cell and he's lying with you…_

She put a hand to her heart and let out a sigh. "Jesus Starling. Just thinking about him makes your heart race." Clarice checked the time again. 7:54.

_My, how time flies when you're having fun. Oh shut up Starling._

She leant over her chair and picked up the roll of drawings she had recovered from Chilton's office before she left for Memphis. Score one - Team Starling. She smiled to herself and imagined Chilton's expression when she hands Doctor Lecter his art work. She opened the car door and stepped out into the dark parking lot. Another quick glance at the clock on her dash-board told her 8:00. Showtime. She took a deep breath and started for the heavily guarded entrance, credentials in hand.

* * *

><p>Trainee, Clarice Starling pushed her way past the thick blue doors that held the brilliant psychiatrist, Hannibal Lecter. There in the middle of the large room in what looked to starling like a cage, sat Hannibal Lecter. He held in his hand with his thumb and index finger a copy of Marcus Aurelius, <em>Meditations. <em>She hesitated just a moment before moving to stand behind a barricade positioned about a metre from the bars of his cage. He turned in his chair and smiled darkly at her.

"So good of you to have made it Clarice." he said lowering the book to his lap.

"I brought you your drawings Doctor. Just until you get your view." She was determined for her voice not to quake. He seemed to be amused by that. She lay the roll of papers and the case file in reach just outside his cage.

"Thank you, that's very thoughtful." he bowed his head. "And thank you for the magnificent spectacle you made of Doctor Chilton this morning."

She blushed at that. "It was my pleasure Doctor Lecter.' she stated. Then she added, "But I thought you said he wasn't a real Doctor."

"Very good Clarice. No he isn't a real doctor. He likes to call himself that because he runs a mental _hospital_ but in fact, he never attended medical school nor did he receive a medical certificate of any sort." Lecter chuckled darkly. Clarice couldn't help but smile. "Did Jack Crawford send you for one last dwindle before you're both booted off the case?"

_Here we go… and the spilling of my soul continues._

"No I came because I wanted to." He tsked' her.

"What would the press make of that Agent Starling? People will say were in love." His maroon eyes, teasing, captured pinwheels of light and sparked like fireworks. They reminded Clarice briefly of a carnival she visited with her father.

"What would you have to say to those assumptions Doctor?"

"What is it that Ol' Jackie Boy has to say about _assumptions_ Clarice?" she almost laughed at that.

"When you _assume_, you make an _ass_ out of _u_ and _me_ both."

"I'm curious." he said simply.

"About what Doctor?"

"This dream of yours Clarice. I'd like to hear the rest of it." _Nice one Starling. Walked right into that one._

"There's not much more to tell." she lied. He tsked' her again.

"Now Clarice, I thought friends didn't tell each other lies. You were telling me it wasn't professional. It was in my cell that this dream took place… and?" she let out a breath that she didn't realise she was holding. She closed her eyes and thought about how to put it.

"Okay, Doctor Lecter. Fine, I'll tell you." He folded his hands and waited. "Well it starts out in a small café. It's considerably empty. I walk to a table, sit down, open the menu and when I look up you're sitting opposite me. You're in what I think is an Armani suit and I feel enormously under-dressed in just an ankle length dress.'

"What colour is the dress?" he asks softly, his eyes closed lightly, imagining.

"Emerald green." He hums appreciatively. Feeling uncomfortable, she starts pacing the length of the cage.

"We're sitting at the table, just looking at each other like we're waiting for something." she stops for a moment to laugh nervously. "Then, I don't know how, but something spills on my dress. It all happens pretty fast from there. One minute were sitting there and the next, we're in you cell and you're helping me out of my gown…" her eyes dark frantically around the room and she risks a glance at Lecter who simply sits in his chair, hands folded, head tilted, listening intently, eyes still closed. Her cheeks flush. "I'm sure I don't have to explain how sex works to a Doctor."

He smiled. "Maybe we'll have time for that later." he laughed then. It took her off guard. Had she ever heard him laugh? It was such a marvelous sound. Deep, rasping, and so full.

"Quid Pro Quo Doctor. Louise Friend? Iron Sulfide, Fool's gold? I thought friends didn't lie to each other." She was still blushing but smiled inwardly at how strong her voice sounded.

"I wouldn't call that miniscule test of the imagination a lie, but I suppose you have a point. Very well Clarice, ask away." Then, "You might have more luck catching him if you were to ask me what he's doing with them.'

"Tell me please."

He spun leisurely in his chair, "Only because you asked so nicely." he began. "All of his victims are quite large girls. That coupled with the fact that our Billy has probable been denied sex alteration surgery one or more times gives us…" he prompted.

"He… uses women as a tool to relieve sexual frustration? No. There's no signs of sexual assult to the bodies…' she looked up at him, a look of confusion written plainly on her features.

"Not quite. Why do _you_ think he removes their skins Agent Starling?"

"Most serial killers keep some sort of trophies from their victims."

"I didn't."

"No. you ate yours." he lowered his eyes for a moment and when he met her gaze again there was playfulness.

"I'm going to tell you what purpose he serves by removing the skin."

"Okay"' she prompted.

"He's making a woman suit out of real women, Clarice."

The corners of her lips turned into a grimace and the same familiar smell of cheap cologne wafted into the room.

"Good evening Frederick." Dr. Lecter greeted coldly.

"I see you got your papers back Hannibal."

Chilton turned his attention to Clarice who was still in a state of bewilderment.

"Time's up Agent Starling. Out." Sergeant Tate's voice echoed over the top of Chilton's. "'Please ma'am. We've got orders to put you on a plane." she looked up to Lecter. He stared at her, anticipating.

"Doctor-"

"I'm sure I'll be seeing you soon Clarice. That ambition of yours will probably save her." she still couldn't speak. The police officer began tugging roughly on her arm and she jerked backwards but Clarice and Doctor Lecter never lost eye contact.

"Oh and Clarice," he said, standing now directly behind the bars of his cage. His white shirt and pants illuminated the room. In her daze, her eyes were not stopped from examining the trim torso that was so obvious in the light. "Your case file…" he hummed, with an outstretched hand through the gap in the bars. He held the wad of papers as if it weighed nothing. His index finger rested along the length of the spine. She didn't know what came over her but with a burst of energy she broke free of the Sergeants grip, ignoring frantic commands and warnings, and darted around a barrier to reach up and grasp hold of the case file. He did not let go right away but instead looked directly into her eyes and caressed her finger with his own. her heart quivered like cranberry sauce dumped from a can and she could see in the Doctor's eyes that, whatever that was, it had registered with him too.

"Until we meet again, Clarice." he whispered. Starling let out a shuddered breath as strong arms wrapped around her shoulders and she was mercilessly hauled back behind the barriers. She clutched the file to her chest as if it were a child. Still refusing to loosen his grip, Sergeant Tate led her out of the double doors and into the elevator.

* * *

><p>Clarice Starling sat with her legs tucked underneath her on an old one seater couch. She held in her hands the Buffalo Bill case file. After memorizing it cover to cover, she finally let her head loll back against the back of the seat. She reflected briefly on the worn spot where her head sat now. How many times had she sat here like this? How many of those times had she been thinking about <em>him<em>?

It had been an uneventful plane ride and during her time in the air, she had tried to rationalize to herself the first physical contact between her and Doctor Lecter. So there was no doubt about it. Clarice Starling had romantic feelings toward Hannibal Lecter. Why? She had figured that one out while on the plane. He understands her. He is the only one - as sad as that may sound - whom she could tell anything to. He is the only one in her life who is and would always be there - even if it wasn't in the traditional 'shoulder to cry on' way, but she had that with Ardelia. What Lecter offered was intillectual. He could challenge everything about her.

She had set herself a hypothetical situation. Lecter for some reason isn't in the asylum. He isn't incarcerated but he is still Hannibal Lecter and he is wanted. She finds him. What does she do? She hadn't figured that out yet. She made several suggestions to herself though like: as long as she is an agent of the law, she has duties to uphold and a strict moral code to follow. But who knows what one might come up with if heaven forbid they were actually cast into such a situation? At that, Clarice let her eyes fall closed and the case file fall into her lap. Within moments, she was fast asleep.


	4. Sorting Dreams From Reality

**Twisted Love Stories**

**Dream of Me**

**Chapter Four**

Clarice woke with a start to a familiar blood curdling cry. Her heart was pounding and sweat beaded on her forehead. Her breaths were short and ragged. The house was dark. Something wasn't right. She put her palms to her ears in a helpless attempt to quiet the screams. She forced her eyes shut as tight as they would go but nothing worked. She let out a strangled cry and clenched her hands into tight fists at the side of her head. Her eyes shot wide open and as the screams started to die down with each time the axe fell, she began to take in her surroundings.

She was lying in her bed but she was positive she had fallen asleep on the couch. She brushed it off. Swinging her legs over the side of the bed, Clarice made a conscious decision to call Jack Crawford. What time was it? A half-hearted glance at the alarm clock on her bedside table told her 4:12. _Maybe_, she thought,_ I better wait until the sun rises._ Still half asleep, Clarice wandered into the bathroom with heavy steps. She paused at the sink and turned on the tap. The cold water splashing on her face woke her up properly. She stared at herself in the cheap mirror and wondered silently what so many saw in her.

The phone on her bedside table began to ring. _Who the hell is phoning at quarter past four in the morning?_ Hesitantly, she picked up the phone but did not speak.

"Starling?" Jack Crawford's voice was flooded with concern.

"Sir, what is it?" she asked cautiously.

"You're okay." he breathed. This was making less sense as the night progressed, she thought.

"Lecter escaped." and then suddenly it clicked. "He killed two police officers, an ambulance crew and a tourist. Took his clothes, money and passport." She couldn't speak. Couldn't breathe.

"He won't come after me…"

"Don't be naïve Starling. Look I have to go. It's a hell of a mess here. Just be careful alright?"

She nodded dumbly, realized he couldn't see her and replied with, "Yes Sir. Don't worry about me." A pause.

"Bye Clarice. I'll call you again soon."

"G'bye Mr. Crawford." She finished and flipped closed the phone. She was numb. It all felt like a sick joke.

* * *

><p>With each week that passed Clarice's hopes that he would contact her grew more and more grim. It had been almost two months now, and still no word. She thoroughly read through her daily newspaper religiously and this winter morning, as she sipped her coffee, something in the personals caught her attention.<p>

_Dear Hannah,_

_Look in the lamb,_

_Left of the swings._

_Regards, Doctor Chawtman_

immediately her mind got to work.

_Chawtman - Watchman. Night Watchman. That's got to be him. What the hell does he mean... swings... playground. There's a painted statue of a lamb in the playground ten minutes away. It's a long shot but that's all I have._

* * *

><p>Squeals of delight enveloped the small playground. A toddler clapped as his father handed him an ice cream cone and more children played tag around her. Cringing, she walked hurriedly to the lamb at the edge of the playground. She examined it carefully, looking for any cracks or holes that something could be hidden in.<p>

A large ribbon adorned the lambs neck. Starling intuitively ran her fingers under the ribbon under they felt paper. Flipping the ribbon, she discovered an envelope with _Clarice _written across the front in flawless copperplate. Pushing her thumb nail under the lip opened the seal. She slid out the expensive paper and read;

_Clarice,_

_I noticed you refrained in calling our mutual acquaintance, Jack. Could it be that you are growing tired of the Bureaus tedious games already?_

_You will be receiving a phone call shortly. I would very much appreciate if you made your way to Baltimore Airport and waited._

_Hannibal Lecter, MD._


	5. Exchanges

**Twisted Love Stories**

**Dream of Me**

**Chapter Five**

She could feel him, his presence, not just in her mind anymore and she shuddered in anticipation as she visualised seeing him in the very near future. She had a problem though - she had no clue what she would do with him when she found him.

_I can think of a few things. You might actually forget everything and just… just what? Have fun? With a recently escaped serial killer? Note to self: __angst equals severe mental retardation. Calm yourself Starling._

With that, she locked her car and headed toward the entrance, the letter she had found in the playground safely in her glove box.

On entering the airport, Starling was met with a flurry of travellers rushing with luggage and children. A large woman arguing with her husband collided with her shoulder and Clarice turned to see the woman glaring at her, her husband staring off and pretending not to notice. She heard the woman mumble something like, 'Freakin' tourists…' before marching off, embarrassed spouse in tow. Something caught Starlings eye then; an onlooker. But this man was different. He wore an Armani suit, dark billowing trench coat and a dark fedora. Clarice recognized the way sparks pin wheeled in his maroon eyes. He stood as still as she had ever seen. Clarice felt her heart race, threatening to leap from her chest. She held her breath and tried to think rationally, failing catastrophically at the task.

She took one hesitant step forward, still holding his intense gaze and he tilted his head. That one sharp movement was as effective in displaying his disapproval as throwing his hat to the floor.

She swore she saw him wink before he turned and disappeared into the crowd.

_Wait! God Starling, don't let him get away!_

She forced her legs to go forward through the swarm of people. She pushed her way through the masses while craning her neck, desperate not to lose sight of him. It didn't take long for her to realize that she had only seen him because he wanted her to. He would not show himself again until he thought she was ready.

In realizing that was the first time she had seen him without any bars, a smile crept on to her face. She had seen Dr. Lecter in his natural environment, surrounded by people who were none the wiser. She was exhilarated and anxious to know where this day would see them.

A vibration in her jacket pocket snapped her back to reality and she pulled out the cell phone and flipped it open holding it tentatively to her ear but not speaking.

She could hear his even breathing on the other end of the line.

"Hello Clarice. So good to see you." the familiar voice rasped.

"Dr. Lecter," she whispered. "Where did you go?"

He tsked her. "Now Clarice, patience. There will be time for that later, I assure you. Aren't you going to ask me about my day?"

"I've never had a thing for small talk."

"Touché. Tell me Clarice, what do you have a thing for?"

"I tell you things, you tell me things."

He considered that for a moment. "Very well. Ladies first."

"Thank you Doctor. Why am I here?"

"I would think you are here because you want to be. Remember Clarice, I never forced you into anything." He paused. "My turn?"

"Yes."

"Why _are_ you here Clarice? Are you here to catch me? Make a name for yourself?"

"I should hope you think of me a little higher than that Doctor."

"Evasion." he accused. "You followed a newly escaped felon to an airport without help from the cavalry. Tell me why."

"Honestly… I thought after our last discussion… there might be reason you led me here."

"Yes."

"What is it, Doctor Lecter?"

"All good things to those who wait…"

Before she could form words again, the dial tone bleared through the small speaker.

* * *

><p>Starling stood with the phone to her ear and took a moment to compose herself. After several deep breaths she closed the cell and placed it into her purse. Running a hand through her auburn hair, she thought of what to do. She had no idea where to go next and so she assessed her surroundings more thoroughly and ran through conversations in her head, searching for a hint.<p>

_What am I looking for? _

A body brushed against her side and she muttered an apology for standing in the way. The warm feeling lingered a little longer than normal and Clarice automatically shuddered. She spun on her heel but he was gone… again.

A frown creasing her forehead, she wondered what reason he had for being so close - not that she minded one bit. She still felt a slight tingle that ran up her side. She scanned the crowd again but with no luck, she made her way to a kiosk. Starling ordered an espresso and when reaching into her purse to retrieve her wallet, discovered her hint.

Ignoring the urge to delve further into her purse, she hastily paid the cashier and walked briskly to a bench. Only then did she allow herself the pleasure to dip into the purse and rummage though its mysterious contents. Another envelope, this one thicker than the others. She ripped it open and three items fell on to her lap. The first was a passport for one Hannah Chawtman. The second, another letter.

_Dearest Clarice,_

_You are certainly on the right track. By now you would have discovered the next puzzle piece but you still don't have a motive, do you? I don't much care for that term. It has been too commonly used and now leaves an unpleasant taste in the mouth of the one who speaks it. Much like you Clarice. If the FBI continues to use you as a bargaining chip in petty trades then I fear you might suffer a similar fate. _

_You have a choice to make now Clarice. Maybe you should call Jackie Boy. He might like some say in your decision. The choice is yours. Whether or not to take the leap is entirely up to you although I do favour a certain side, I will not attempt to sway you either way._

_Your old pal, Hannibal Lecter, MD._

She re-read the letter and placed it back in the envelope and tucked it into her purse. A whisper of velvet skimmed her finger and, perplexed, Starling peered again into her purse. What she found caused her breath to hitch. A blue velvet box, rectangular, long and slim submerged in the depths. The hesitantly reached in and opened it, taking a peek and tightly closing her eyes. She did a double take. Petite gold chain, emerald pendant and an engraving: _The Warrior_. It's flawless beauty represented something deeper that Starling cared to admit but nonetheless, she flipped her hair over her shoulder and, without much of a second thought, fastened the chain at the back of her neck. The pendant hung below her collar-bone and just above her small amount of cleavage. She smiled at that.

_This man thinks of everything…_

One more item lay in her hands though. A boarding pass for a flight to the Bahamas scheduled for an hours' time. With sudden realization, she dove into her purse again and retrieved the cell. She dialled and held it to her ear. He answered on the second ring.

'Hello?'

'Hello Mr. Crawford.'

* * *

><p>Jack Crawford, Senator Ruth Martin, Paul Krendler from Justice Department and the handful of guards who were assigned to watch Lecter stood in a too small office and waited impatiently on any information that might be relevant. So far they had the name of the tourist. Lloyd Wymann. He was just in the wrong place at the wrong time.<p>

Jack Crawford had boiled water for a coffee three times already but something always interrupted. A false lead, an argument and his cell phone vibrating in his coat pocket. He sighed, abandoned the kettle yet again and answered.

"Crawford."

"Hello Sir."

"Starling? Is something wrong?"

"No Sir. Quite the opposite."

"Then what is it?"

"I'm calling to ask for some time away. No more than a week. Since we closed the Catherin Martin case I haven't been of much use."

Crawford was puzzled. This was highly out of character but it reminded him greatly of his Bella. Whenever she was stressed she would just up and leave. Always left a note. Never said where she was going or for how long but she always came back. It worked too. Once, Bella left for forty-three days, he had counted. Jack wasn't a naturally trusting person and it took a fair bit of convincing for him to understand her need of space but when she came back and he saw the smile on her face, he immediately welcomed her quirk into their lives. He would do the same thing now with Starling. She is so much like how his Bella used to be… it amazed him when he looked at the many similarities. After Bella's passing, Jack thought he would never learn to love another, but when Starling first walked into his office, he saw what he had seen in Bella the day he fell in love with her.

"You take as much time as you like Clarice. Could I ask where you plan on staying? Just if we hear any new information."

"I'll have my cell."

"Of course."

"I appreciate this sir."

"Please, I don't think that highly of formalities. Call me Jack."

She hesitated a moment. He wondered why. "Ok, Jack. I'll call you when I land…" he could tell she instantly regretted her words. Jack decided it was best not to press.

"Thank you Starling."

"G'bye Mr… uh, bye Jack."

"Goodbye. Take care." With that, he pressed the red button on his cell and placed it back in his jacket pocket.

Jack Crawford steadied his breathing and boiled the water… again. He felt immense guilt. The day he married Bella, he had made a vow to be forever faithful but does ones forever continue if the better half is deceased? Would she want him to move on with his life and be happy… even if he lived a happy life with someone else? Someone like Clarice…


	6. An Unexpected Turn of Events

**Twisted Love Stories**

**Dream of Me**

**Chapter Six**

After ending the call with Crawford, Starling threw the cell in her purse and made her way to gate six. She had no idea what Crawford would decide in the next ten minutes nor did she know how greatly it would affect her. There was still half an hour until the she had to board so she sat at the waiting area and examined her ticket more closely while consciously twirling the emerald with her other hand.

She was in seat C6 in…

_Oh my god. First Class? You've got to be kidding. _

Starling twirled the emerald pendant between her thumb and forefinger before her cell rang.

"Starling."

"Morning Clarice."

"Doctor Lecter, I found what you put in my purse…"

"Yes, I do wish I could have given it to you more personally but it is so much fun this way, wouldn't you agree?"

"Of course. And thank you. For the necklace, it's beautiful. And the tickets, but you didn't have to go to that much effort just for me… I mean, I've never travelled first class before! This is all entirely new experiences for me and it's a bit over whelming. All that aside, I really appreciate all you've done for me."

"It has been a pleasure Clarice. And believe me when I say there will be plenty more new experiences to come."

"What do you mean?"

"How did you feel when you saw the necklace Clarice?"

She paused for a moment and collected herself. "I felt… shocked, amazed…"

"Yes?"

"Kind of exited."

"Why do you think that is?"

"I'm not sure."

"You've never been much of a liar."

"I'm serious."

"Please, Clarice, remember who you're talking with." So she did.

"I apologize."

"Accepted, of course. Now, why do you think you had that reaction to the necklace Clarice?"

"I guess-"

"You guess?"

"Right. I mean, because I'm just really anxious to find out where this day will end up and finding that necklace…" she trailed off, finally realizing the words that were about to come out of her mouth.

"Please finish your thought."

"Well the necklace and the tickets… it just seems to me like this is a bit more than, oh I don't know, old friends meeting up in the _Bahamas. _Is it more than that Doctor?"

"Do you want it to be Clarice?" he responded.

So this was how it was going to be. She tells him all of her thoughts and feelings, her lifelong torments and he gives her, what? Some shiny jewellery and a plane ticket? Sure, that was great but all she really wanted was to know him. To know what he was thinking. Did he think about her the same way? Did he think about her at all?

"What have you told me about yourself since we met? Apart from business exchanges."

"With your high powered perception, shouldn't you see right through me?"

"You're more complex than anyone I've ever met in my life."

"But you still saw a glimpse of me that afternoon in the dungeon."

She remembered their conversation, the cold, hard expression on his face when she had spoken of childhood. "I… I was right?"

"You sound surprised." he mused.

"I am… very surprised. So you're kind of like me huh?"

"In what respect?"

"Do you wake up at night, in the dark, feeling like you're completely alone?"

He paused a moment. "Not since I met you, Clarice." She did a double take. What was he saying? Did he mean that _I _stopped _his_ lambs? He had lambs?

_Him and I are alike in more ways that I ever imagined… I don't know how to feel about this. _

"I'm glad." she managed.

"You skimmed over my question Clarice. I think it's only fair you answer now, don't you?" A beat. "Do you want this to be more, my dear?"

She swallowed hard and concentrated her thoughts on his voice. "Yes." she whispered.

Starling was met with silence at her acknowledgement. The Good Doctor took a moment to compose himself before he spoke. "Very well, Clarice. I hate to cut this conversation short, we will have to continue it later. Our plane is boarding." And he was gone.

_Our _plane? She looked around at the gathering of people at gate six.

_This is it, _she thought._ No turning back._

"Clarice!" she spun in time to see Jack Crawford hurtling towards her. _What in hell?_

"Jack? What are you doing here? How the hell did you find me?"

He stopped in front of her and put his hands on his knees trying to catch his breath. "Long story. I assumed you'd be here. It's closest to your home."

"Jack Crawford _assumed_?" she teased.

"Yeah I know. I'm sorry for doing this. Listen there's something I should talk to you about."

"Jack, I'm just about to board my plane. How did you know I would be here on this flight anyway?"

"I didn't." She looked puzzled. "I'll explain it all later. Please it'll only take a minute."

Starling hesitated. "Um, okay but it'll have to be real quick."

"Thank you. Okay here goes…"

Starling felt overwhelming dread standing in front of her section chief. Jack Crawford had tracked her to the airport, to this particular spot and just as she is about to board the plane with a serial killer, he shows up announcing that he has something important to say.

He had obviously rehearsed his speech in the car on the way. "The reason I'm here is because I need to tell you something I couldn't say over the phone." he said, discreetly running his eyes over her subtle form.

"Is it about Lecter, sir?"

"Jack." he corrected softly. "And no… not directly." She waited. "When Bella died, you of all people knew how devastated I was. I thought I would never fully move on…"

_Shitshitshitshitshitshitshit _

"But that feeling of loss has slowly started fading away." he paused and swallowed nervously. "I think - I mean, I know - it's because I met you."

"Jack…" she interrupted.

He raised a hand, requiring a moment to finish his part. "There's a reason I've taken a shine to you Clarice. I've just been too damn stubborn to see it." She tilted her head. "You're so much like her."

"I know that feeling Jack…"

'Really?'

"When I see you, I see the courage, the incorruptibility, the kindness, even the physical features of…" Starling trailed off

"Of?" he prompted. She looked at him apologetically, her eyes saddened, her soul guilt ridden.

"Of my father."

He did a double take. "Ah." he said, looking at his shoes.

"I need you. If not as a friend then a reminder of the great man my father was. The great man that _you_ are now. You need me for the same reasons; to keep Bella in your life."

"I suppose you're right." he mumbled.

"I'm sorry sir." She said placing her hands on his shoulders and kissing his cheek.

He smiled. "Thank you."

"Don't mention it." she replied, winking. He cleared his throat.

"You should go. I don't want you to miss your flight."

"I appreciate it."

"Oh, one more thing." he added.

"Yes sir?"

He hesitated, opening his mouth to speak but thinking better of it. "It can wait. You go have a nice time."

Clarice nodded appreciatively and turned and walked towards the gate, fishing her boarding pass from her bag. She didn't turn, just walked straight through to the man who asked for her pass.

_Okie dokie, here we go._


	7. Again

**Twisted Love Stories**

**Dream of Me**

**Chapter Seven**

Starling didn't know what to expect when she stepped into first class. There could have been chandeliers hanging from the ceiling for all she knew. Whatever it was that had played out in her mind was certainly put to shame as she took in her surroundings. It was larger than she was used to, double the size of her seat in the flight back from Memphis. Even the colour scheme was more luxurious. She made her way to seat C6 and fought to contain a sigh as she slid into her chair.

_I could get used to this…_

She made herself comfortable and prepared her mind for the turmoil ahead. She couldn't help but wonder if the Doctor was here on this plane with her, watching her. She found herself hoping he was.

She took a deep breath._ The things you do to me Dr. Lecter…_

She buckled her seat belt and prepared for take-off. She thoroughly enjoyed the thought of rocketing forward into the sky, away from the aches and pains of responsibility and into the unknown with a serial killer acting as a tour guide, introducing her to parts of herself she had yet to face. To pass the time, she busied herself with a crudely drawn sketch of a duck in a suit and tie.

Just as she was about to add the lasers shooting out of her duck's eyes, an attractive male flight attendant approached her holding a glass of wine. "Excuse me ma'am." He interrupted politely, flashing a charming grin.

"Yes?" she paid hardly any attention to the heart-achingly stunning man before her.

"The older gentleman in seat D7 bought you a drink. Batard Montrachet, the best wine we have although if you would allow me to comment, I'm quite surprised that a beautiful woman such as yourself is attracting the attention of such men."

She looked at him, struggling to hide her suspicion and noticed his purposely flexed muscles through the thin white shirt. "Thank you. Would you give him a message from me?"

He winked. "Of course ma'am."

Starling folded over her sketch of the laser shooting duck, scribbled down her note and swapped it for the wine. She thanked him again and waved him off. He returned to seat D7 looking slightly dejected.

Starling could only just hear their muffled exchanges.

"Sir?"

"Mmm?" _Oh my god… it was him, he is here on the plane only two rows behind me!_

"The young woman you sent the wine to asked me to give you her thanks as well as this note."

"Thank you. Is that all?"

"Yes sir. Enjoy your flight."

* * *

><p>Dr. Lecter dismissed the attendant and breathed in the smell of the rather dishevelled note. He unfolded it and chuckled inwardly at her sketch. Turning the paper over, he imprinted her style of handwriting into his mind.<p>

_Doctor,_

_I would very much like to continue our phone conversation and seeing as this will be a bit of a long flight, I think it would do us both some good to enjoy some pleasant conversation. I'm inviting you to join me Doctor. The seat next to mine is free. It would please me immensely to be in your company for a while. What do you say?_

_- Clarice._

The Doctor smiled. _Brave Clarice… why let such an opportunity pass? Life is too short._

Ensuring his escape route was planned and ready should something go wrong, the Doctor stood and made his way to Clarice's seat. She had the window seat and was staring but not seeing.

"Good morning Doctor." she greeted before he had a chance. She focused hard on appearing nonchalant but the doctor could hear her breaths and the jack hammer beating of her heart.

"Clarice. So good to see you."

She turned to him and nodded pleasantly. "Sit, please." she motioned to the empty chair next to her. He bowed slightly and sat, crossing his legs. He sighed and smiled to himself at Clarice's sudden intake of breath.

"How do you feel about flying?" he asked.

"It's… relaxing. Being so far in the sky, way up in the clouds in a machine that, according to physics, shouldn't even be able to lift off the ground I think is sort of magical." she smiled shyly. "How do you feel about flying Doctor?"

Settling into his seat, he replied, "As you said Clarice… magical."

She shivered. This did not go unnoticed by the Doctor. Clarice had foolishly packed her coat away in the compartments above them.

"Are you cold?" he asked.

"A little but I'll be fine.'"

"Here," he sat forward and shrugged out of his coat. He placed it tentatively around her shoulders and she blushed hot. An observation she made; he never touched her with his bare skin and Starling felt somewhat disappointed.

"Thank you."

"You mentioned wanting to continue our phone conversation. Might I suggest quid pro quo?"

She turned sideways in her seat so she was facing him front on. "Yes please."

"Very well. I believe it was your turn."

"You asked me before if I wanted this to be… more."

"Yes."

"Do _you_, Doctor?"

He gave a crooked smile at her frankness. _This would be fun. "_Do I what Clarice?"

she huffed, struggling for words. "Do you want, um…" she trailed off.

"Please finish your thought."

"Do I have to say it?" He nodded. "But you already know what I mean!"

"Say it Clarice."

She shifted her gaze to her hands as she twiddled her thumbs.

"Do you… um, want… me…?" she rasped quietly.

"In what way?"

She snapped her head up to look at him, disbelief written plainly on her face.

'Say it Clarice. You'll thank me later."

'I doubt it."

She sighed and put her head in her hands.

"Do you… want me… sexually?"

"Look at me Clarice." Hesitantly, she complied. "Again."

"You're fucking joking, right?"

Dr. Lecter wrinkled his nose. "Language, please."

"English, Doctor."

He smiled. "Again."

"Do you want me sexually?" she cringed as the words rolled off her tongue.

"There, was that so hard?"

"Answer the damn question please." she grumbled.

"More than you could imagine, Clarice."

A beat.

She had fallen silent, stopped breathing. He held her gaze and she saw amusement in his eyes despite the blue contacts.

"My turn?"

She nodded dumbly.

"What made you decide to follow me?" he asked curiously as he inclined his head.

"I figured I have nothing to lose."

"You aren't concerned for your safety?" he enquired, lacing his fingers together on his knee.

_His pulse never rose above 85. Even when he at her tongue._

"Are you a liar?" she quipped.

"No."

'Then I am in no danger.' she stated confidently. "I hope you understand how much I trust you, Doctor."

Lecter hesitated. Never had anyone talked to him like this. She was so frank with him.

"I do, Clarice."

"Good." Hesitantly, Starling reached across the void between them and placed her hand lightly over his hands, still rested on his knee. She felt him shiver but not from the cold and she couldn't help but do the same. Carefully, slowly she caressed his knuckles with her thumb. After a moment he responded. Turning his hand and lacing his fingers with hers, always looking into her eyes. She gazed at their joined hands.

"What do you have to gain?" he whispered.

She hadn't voiced the words yet and she feared he would coax her to do that now. "What do you mean Doctor?"

"You said you followed me because you have nothing to lose. What do you have to gain?" he asked again.

Sighing, she started to speak, having no real idea what would come out of her mouth. "Work is so stressful at with that bastard Krendler making me push papers, and Crawford practically declaring his love for me as I go to board the plane.'

Lecter laughed at that. Not a mocking laugh, but sincerely amused.

"Yes I overheard. Jackie boy did always know how to tickle my funny bone."

"You have a funny bone?" she quipped.

"Believe it or not Clarice, even I have my ticklish spots."

"And I shall make it my mission in life to find them."

He winked. "There will be time for that later." _Oh really?_ "We're digressing. I apologize, please continue." She nodded and picked up exactly where she left off.

"So with work how it is, it offers little to no comfort and is not exactly a welcome distraction. Ardelia is always out with her new boyfriend. Sometimes I even question if she still lives with me… anyway, work, social life and…"

"Yes Clarice?"

"And it's been so long…" she whispered almost inaudibly. The doctor was surprised at his own intake of breath.

"Since what, my dear?" he whispered back, stroking her fingers with his own. She frowned, not fully believing what she was about to say and in whose company she was going to say it in.

"Since I met someone that, um…" It was this point in their discussion that the Good Doctor decided to pitch in and assist in her personal realisation.

"Since you met someone whom you connected with on an intimate level?"

She turned her head from him, hiding her flushed cheeks.

"Yes but that's not all Doctor." He freed a hand to hold her chin with his thumb and index finger, turning her face toward him. A single tear ran down her face and she reached quickly with her other hand to wipe it away. He stopped her, holding her wrist firmly but softly. His face was so close to hers, he could smell the saltines of her tears. He closed the distance between them, placing a soft kiss at the corner of her mouth, catching her tear and savouring the bitter sweet taste of her.

Clarice reached for him and touched her hand to the side of his face, tracing his jaw line. She shifted her head and met his lips in a kiss; their first. Her lips parted slightly but he did not follow. The Doctor squeezed his eyes shut and lifted his head, placing a soft kiss on her forehead. Her breath was heavy and it tickled his neck.

He whispered softly into her hair. "I've been in a glass box for eight years." He sighed and felt her smile. "You were saying that there was more to it than meeting someone you connected with intimately. What else is there?"

"I was going to say that it's been a long time since I have been challenged intellectually, and I find the stimulation very enticing."

Hannibal Lecter smirked. "Outstanding."


	8. Getaway

**Twisted Love Stories**

**Dream of Me**

**Chapter Eight**

The rest of the plane trip was spent talking about more light-hearted topics; the weather, the view that Lecter had coveted for, the quality of aeroplane cuisine. They had slowly started to grow accustomed to one another and that was exactly what Dr. Lecter wanted. Five hours into the flight and with enough jealous stares to last him a year, Starling began to drift into sleep. With no real certainty of how to go about it, she tried her best to wait it out but was noticeably struggling so Lecter - ever the gentleman - intervened.

'You're tired.'

She rolled her head to look at him and blinked lazily. "I can wait…"

He tilted his head. "Until when?"

"Uhh…"

"We will be in the air for another hour yet, a half hour in the airport, an hour in the taxi-"

"I get it. So what do you suggest I do?" she slurred.

"The obvious option now would be to sleep, Clarice."

A sigh, "I know that…"

"Then what's the trouble?" he hummed.

She closed her eyes and let her head loll to the side, resting lightly on his shoulder. Lecter was apprehensive at first but became more comfortable when he heard her breathing become deeper with dreamless, instant slumber. He inhaled her scent deeply and watched, memorizing her relaxed features and the noises she made in her sleep.

_Truly beautiful… and to think only months earlier, we were conversing through the bars of a cage. What's in that marvellous mind of yours, Clarice?_

She had clearly expressed her intentions for their little get away, something Doctor Lecter had not anticipated. She knew how to surprise him. Lecter hadn't planned on sitting with her on the plane, nor had he anticipated her forwardness. He had an entire schedule mapped out in his mind. By the time they would arrive in their suite it would be getting late. A small meal then and maybe some talking before bed.

_This will definitely be fuuun…_

* * *

><p>Silent slumber. Drifting, floating through darkness. Her head - she knew - rested on his shoulder and she toyed with the idea of his reaction to that. What was he thinking now? Clarice would give anything to know. Did he trust her? She was still an agent and she'd be damned if all her hard work was wasted because he disagreed with her career. She couldn't give that up for him, could she? <em>Going a bit fast aren't you Starling? The man hadn't even seen a woman in the eight years he spent incapacitated, let alone <em>be_ with someone. Could this just be a way to channel sexual frustration? _That didn't sound right but she couldn't be certain.

Her reverie was interrupted by sweet, husky whispers in her ear. His breath was warm on her neck and she did nothing to suppress the shiver of delight that swept through her.

"Clarice, we're landing. You'll need to wake up." She hummed and her eyelids fluttered open. Tired as she was, Starling hadn't felt as wonderful as this since her daddy had shown her how to handle a gun. "Ah, you're awake.: She turned her head and peered out the window, then back to him.

She greeted him with a smile. "Good afternoon Doctor."

"And to you, Clarice. Did you enjoy your nap?"

"Very much so, thank you." She narrowed her eyes at him. "You didn't rest?"

"No." he didn't elaborate. They both fastened their seatbelts as the plane landed. Lecter noticed her stiffen slightly as they descended the tarmac. "You don't like landing?"

"Too many movies I suppose." She offered a tense chuckle. The rest of the landing was spent in comfortable silence and once the plane had stopped, passengers stood and collected their luggage from the overhead compartments. Lecter - being in the aisle seat - stood and retrieved Starlings bags. She sat in amazement, staring at his lightly muscular frame and how his muscles showed through his shirt when he reached up. Doctor Lecter sensed her eyes on his body and smiled to himself.

"Undressing me with your eyes, Agent Starling?"

She huffed a nervous laugh. He hadn't even looked down at her. "No I was just-'

"Tsk, tsk. And here I am thinking you are a professional." He winked at her and offered his hand, helped her up and led her down the aisle and down the stairs to the tarmac. He wore his fedora and used it to cast a shadow over his face.

* * *

><p>The two walked together through the airport and to the line of taxi's waiting for travellers. He held the door open for her and she slid in the back. Lecter walked to the other side and slid in next to her. She smiled at that.<p>

Lecter leaned forward and instructed something she didn't hear.

"Certainly sir."

Throughout the car ride, Dr. Lecter had not initiated any physical contact. Neither had Starling. She squirmed in uncomfortable silece and practically felt Lecter's smug inward smile.

* * *

><p>An hour later and still not a word from the Doctor. Starling hadn't noticed the taxi slowing to a stop but when her door opened and Lecter offered his hand to her, she beamed and accepted gratefully. Lecter retrieved her one small case from the trunk and led her up a path, past a large and beautiful sculpture of a stone woman and into a reception area. They stepped inside and she gasped. Still holding his arm, she stopped him and looked into his eyes.<p>

"We're staying here?" she breathed.

"Is it to your liking?'

'You've gotta be kiddin'. You've seen the place I live in. This is amazing."

He walked her to the reception desk and offered the bell boy a smile. "Doctor and Mrs. Marcus Richardson please."

_Wife?_ Starling's heart thumped more erratically at the insinuation the word. _It's just a cover… nothing serious. Stop jumping to unreasonable conclusions. It's fine._

The man at the desk busied himself with the computer and after a moment looked up and flashed a soap opera smile. "Ah yes, Doctor and Mrs Richardson. You will be staying in room 26. Here is your room key, have a pleasant stay. Let us know if there is anything we can do that will make your stay more comfortable."

He handed Lecter the key and the Doctor and Starling started toward the elevator, declining the help of a bell hop. On opening the door to the suite, Clarice stepped inside and made an 'o' shape with her mouth.

"I'm completely speechless Doctor Richardson." she said turning to him.

"Please my dear, we're married." He winked. "Call me Marcus."


	9. Intermission

**Twisted Love Stories**

**Dream of Me**

**Chapter Nine**

It had been three hours since he watched Starlings departure but Jack Crawford still lingered, sulking in the airport. He was exhausted but couldn't bring himself to sleep. Sick of airport espresso and with nothing left to do, he heading out to the car park.

He had made a point of parking next to Clarice. Now the gesture just seemed just a painful reminder of his earlier failure. The early morning air was brisk as he made his way to the car. He shivered involuntarily but he wasn't entirely certain if it was a result of the cold or something else. He shuffled his feet, braving a tidal wave of emotion as it hit him full force. Among the emotions; rejection, hurt, grief, betrayal, etc. Right now, Jack just wanted to go home, hit the rum and drift into a dreamless sleep.

He fumbled for his keys inside his coat as he reached the car, dropped them and as he lent to pick them up, tripped over his feet and landed on the ground. Defeated, he slumped against Starlings car. Crawford pushed against the door using her door handle as a lift but when he pulled, the door swung open, narrowly missing his head. Still gripping the door handle, he regained control of his feet and stood, perplexed.

_Her door is unlocked? She must have been in a hell of a hurry to forget that…_

There stood Jack Crawford in a car park that may as well have been abandoned, staring at an open gateway. That gateway led to so many possibilities, so many opportunities but was it wrong? Of course it was, but when opportunity comes a knockin'.

Crawford looked around before sliding into the passenger's seat and closing the door behind him. The scent that is fully Clarice lingered in the air and he breathed it in gladly. He took notice of how she positioned her seat, the state of the floor mat and the clutter in the middle console. To him, this was all very fascinating but he wanted to see what others couldn't from the outside. Her glove box seemed like the right place to start.

He hesitated a split second, debating, but opened it anyway. The first thing that caught his attention, he reached in and picked up. It was just a simple envelope, a bit on the expensive side. Not a bill, this looked personal. Crawford was intrigued. It wasn't family… maybe a friend? Friends don't usually make their letters so intimate. He flipped the envelope over in his hands and thought for a moment he recognized the copperplate script immediately._ No, it can't be…_

Jack was too curious for his own good. Was it worth finding out who this was from and why Starling had it safely in her glove compartment? He would kick himself for the rest of his days if he didn't know. Jack slipped the beautiful paper onto his lap, turned it over and noticed his name in the very first sentence. He skimmed through the letter with growing interest, pausing on key phrases like _Bureaus tedious games, receiving a phone call, inside and waited… _

_Hannibal Lecter. _

The letter fell from his hands as the information sunk in. The first conclusion he jumped to terrified him.

Clarice was running off with a newly escaped cannibal. That was why she was here? She had lied to him?

_What did he do to her to make her do this? Clarice is a straight arrow. She wouldn't do this. This isn't like her. Something happened… what happened? What would Lecter do to contact her? She said she has her cell phone but that just doesn't seem like him. I don't even know this guy! He has Clarice! He would make it personal though… oh my god._

Jack hurtled out of the car taking the letter with him. He sprinted for the first newspaper dispenser he saw and flipped straight to the personals.

* * *

><p>After exploring each room, Clarice came to rest on the love seat, completely exhausted. Lecter moved to sit by her on the arm. He sat in comfortable silence. Starling was not so comfortable. Clearing her throat she asked, "Can I make us some tea?" That would give her something to do <em>and<em> make noise. Perfect.

"You've had a long day Clarice. I don't think caffeine is such a wise decision at this hour. Why don't you have a nap while I make dinner?"

Starling wished aloud that she had packed before coming. She was out the door so fast, the thought didn't even enter her mind. "I don't even have any pajamas."

"You're in luck my dear." Hannibal stood, leading Clarice by the hand into her bedroom where two suitcases lay on the bed. He opened the first - pajamas, undergarments, toiletries, swim suit, etc. In the other - clothes for during the day. "I hope I haven't left anything out. If that is the case, I can drive into town first thing."

"This is perfect, Doctor! You really have thought of everything." she mused, rummaging through a case. She paused on a small bag. "Earplugs?"

"Ah. Just incase."

"Am I to assume that you snore?"

He smiled. "You must be exhausted. Why don't you freshen up before your nap? Fresh towels are in the bathroom to your right."

"That sounds lovely." she replied offering a crooked smile. He smiled back and clasped his hands in front of him as he left the room.

Starling nodded again and moved toward the bathroom, brushing his shoulder with her hand as she passed him. He closed his eyes and waited until he heard the bathroom door softly click shut before taking his next breath.

Starling was equal in control, allowing a shiver as soon as she had privacy. She took a few deep breaths and began preparing for her shower.

The bathroom was spacious and comforting, adorned with a large sink and an open shower. She stepped in and welcomed the steaming jets of water with a sigh. She still hadn't a clue what she was doing. Should she forget it and take him in? How would she go about arresting him? No… she was kind of enjoying herself and he interested her far too much to willingly cut their time together short.

She lathered her hair with shampoo and contemplated what Docter Lecter had planned for them. He had said so himself, that this was more than a business exchange, more than friends. She wondered when they had gone from friends to... well, truly she had no idea what thet were. That didn't matter much. What mattered was that they _were_.

She rinsed the shampoo from her hair and reached for the soap. The first thing she wanted to know though, was what he had done since escaping Memphis two months ago.

She turned off the water, stepped out of the shower and pulled a crisp white towel from the rack on the wall. Taking a deep breath, she collected her clothing from the floor, secured the towel around her and opened the door.

She found Hannibal sitting cross-legged on the love seat, a copy of _Vogue Italia _in his hands. He did not see her first, rather he could smell the lavender scented shampoo waft through the air around them. The fresh bouquet along with her clean scent sent a new wave of something unfamiliar through him that caused his blood to pump slightly faster. He lifted his head.

"Would you wake me when the meal is ready?"

"Yes, of course. Enjoy your nap. Let me know if there is anything at all I can do to make you feel comfortable."

She nodded. "Thank you Hannibal, I'll be sure to do that."

His name on her lips as she stood almost nude before him caught him off guard. For a moment, the good Doctor was at a loss and by the time he recovered only moments later, she was walking toward the bedroom. Lecter watched, eyebrows raised as the walked from him, holding her towel away from her body. He watched it drop to the floor as the door closed. A full minute later, he rose and walked to the kitchen, completely bewildered.

_The things you do to me Agent Star__ling…_

Clarice examined the first suitcase that lay on her bed. She lay the three sets of pajamas out before her, a smirk on her lips.

The first was a simple black tee-shirt accompanied by knee-length silk bottoms. The second; a soft cotton night-gown. The last and most amusing piece of apparel was black lace, sheer, and reached about mid-thigh. What she assumed were matching underwear were of the same description.

After donning the tee-shirt and silk pants, Clarice lay asleep, quite content with how her holiday was progressing. Exhausted, she soon drifted into a light sleep.

* * *

><p>Clarice stirred at the sound of knuckles softly tapping the door frame but she was far too drowsy to open her eyes.<p>

"Clarice, our meal is ready. I recall you asking me to wake you." His voice was low; a husky purr that floated in the space of her mind, still clouded with sleep.

"Mmm…" was the only answer he received as she grumbled her detest into the pillow. She stretched her legs and sighed but made no move to awaken fully.

"Must I come get you?" he threatened. This piqued her interest. _A possible game. _Starling rolled onto her side, creating even more space beside her but did not rise out of bed. Her eyes remained closed but had she been looking, she would have seen the ominous glow of Hannibal's eyes in the dark room, the only light source; bluish moonlight streaming through an open window. She heard nothing - no whisper of fabric, not a breath. A moth's wing beat would have been audible and maybe that was what she heard, or maybe it was her own heart beating.

Starling remained motionless. She had no evidence that he was still with her in the room apart from a stirring unease in the pit of her belly. The mattress dipped suddenly and she heard Hannibal's growl in her ear, his warm breath on her neck.

He was curious to know if she would shy from him. She didn't seem to. More extensive measures? Why not?

"Come Agent Starling, it is time to feast."

Her mouth twitched into the hint of a smile. "Humph."

_Ahh, so this is how it will be…_

Hannibal moved his face closer to her exposed neck, his lips tickling her skin as he moved his mouth.

"You will need your strength Clarice… we have an eventful few days ahead of us." Hannibal was enjoying himself far too much for his own good. It took everything he had not to let his eyes dance over the lines of her body but he resisted. It would be rude to do so while she was like this.

Her eyelids fluttered but did not open, her lips slightly parted. _Tease… "_What events have you scheduled without my knowing, Doctor Lecter?" Starling mumbled.

"Hmm…" he placed a lingering kiss behind her ear. "You should never ask."

"It spoils the surprise." she finished.

He chuckled softly. "You know me too well, Clarice." The way he said her name sent a shiver up her spine. The Doctor noticed and hummed his appreciation into her neck.

"Pleasant surprises, I hope." Her words merely a breath, a whisper, but Hannibal heard her as if she was talking in the most casual of tones.

"Eventually."

She rolled onto her back, paused, then her side. She was facing him, her eyes closed, the length of her body pressed against his. Hannibal closed his own eyes and took several deep breaths through his nose in an attempt to regain composure. Pleased with his efforts and the return of full control over his mind, Lecter opened his eyes. He was surprised to see Clarice staring at him, her eyes wandering over his face, resting every so often on his lips. Their heart beats accelerated steadily at the same pace.

Starling was the first to move. Silently, she rose out of bed. "Dinner then?" she whispered.

Hannibal nodded, rose from the bed also and moved to stand in front of her. Slowly, he reached for her hand but made no decision to touch her. Clarice saw into his eyes for a long while before moving her hand the rest of the distance and closing the gap between them. She laced her fingers with his and nodded.

"Come." he said, leading her from the bedroom and into the dining room where Starling's first coherent thought was, _what smells so wonderful?_

He led Clarice toward the mahogany table, pulled out her chair and motioned for her to sit. Then he excused himself to the kitchen, giving Starling room to collect the many thoughts tumbling in her mind.

_I wonder what he means by 'eventually'._

Lecter returned with two plates and a bottle of wine. He set one plate down in front of her and the other across from her.

"Wine?" he offered, motioning to her empty glass.

She nodded. "Please."

He first filled Clarice's glass and then his own. Then he pulled out his chair and sat, picking up his knife and fork. Clarice did the same.

"Beef and Guinness stew with cheese and chive dumplings." he informed her with a smile, noticing her intense scrutiny of the dish.

"It smells lovely." Confidently, she pierced a cube of beef, dripping in rich sauce and raised the fork to her lips. She chewed slowly, savouring the intense flavour. Her eyes widened as she looked at Lecter who seemed to enjoy the meal.

"This is wonderful!" she gushed between mouthfuls.

"I'm glad you like it." as he took a sip of wine. "Is the wine to your liking?"

"It's perfect. What's it called?"

"Chateau d'Yquem. One of my personal favourites."

The rest of the meal was enjoyed in comfortable silence. Once Lecter cleared the table and refused Clarice's offer on assisting with the washing up, he followed her onto the balcony. There, he found her surveying the beauty that surrounded them.

Starling was shivering and so Hannibal moved in beside her. "Are you cold Clarice?"

"A little. I'm heading inside now anyway. Time to hit the sack, what do you say Doctor?"

"I agree. It's been a tiring day."

She shifted, appearing uncomfortable. Lecter already knew precisely what was on her mind. "Something the matter?"

"Not really, no. I was just wondering… where will you be sleeping Doctor?"

"I have prepared the guest room."

She simply nodded staring still out to the beach, the ocean appearing like a black silk blanket over the horizon.

"Will that be okay?"

"Yes of course."

Lecter, with glee he could scarcely contain, planted a light kiss on her forehead and breathed in the lavender scented shampoo.

At the airport's main doors a smartly dressed man with slick hair, small round glasses and a briefcase hails a taxi. The expression on his face and the cold, plain hurt in his eyes suggests he is not here for pleasure.


	10. The Morning After

**Twisted Love Stories**

**Dream of Me**

**Chapter Ten**

Starling awoke early after a restless sleep. She was used to waking up alone but somehow, after the events that had recently taken place, it just felt wrong. It was as if she expected - dare she hope? - that she would wake up next to Him. She craved the exhilaration, the adrenaline that only He could give her.

_If only they could see me now_, she mused. She smiled as she imagined telling Crawford. _Sorry Jack, you just don't have what I'm looking for; the mind, the body and the blade. I prefer convicts, they have much more character._

Despite the glee she was feeling though, there was a strong underlining feeling of immense guilt. She felt as though she had abandoned her job and her duties for personal pleasure. And in a way, she had.

It wasn't as if the Bureau needed her, however. So why was she feeling these things? She had the perfect opportunity to capture the most dangerous man to date, listed on the FBI's ten most wanted list. She could secure a career in whatever field she wanted. So why wasn't she in there arresting him? Because that would be rude. It wouldn't be fair or just. He was trusting her.

Frustrated that her mind was so busy so early, she groaned, sitting up and swinging her legs over the side of the bed.

_Get ready for some company Doctor._

* * *

><p>Hannibal had been awake for about an hour, listening to Clarice's movements through the thin walls. She had been awake for a while now but she hadn't gotten out of bed.<p>

_What is it you are thinking, sweet Clarice?_

Then, as if she were answering him directly, she spoke, her voice rough with sleep. "Hello Sir."

Was she speaking on the phone? He hadn't heard it ring.

"No that's fine, really. This is a business call, therefore, you should be identified as my superior… okay yes… I'm perfectly fine… yes I'm sure… Sir, are you okay? You sound anxious… Alright. Um, I don't know. Could be a week, could be longer… thank you Sir… Pardon?" Lecter was puzzled. The tone of her voice had changed dramatically.

"Why do you need to know?"

He heard the rustle of bed sheets. His curiosity piqued.

"I really don't understand… no of course not… to be honest Sir, I'm not sure what the name of the hotel is."

_Ah, Jackie Boy, you found my note…_

"What do you mean routine?" her voice grew louder. Despite being scared as all hell, Clarice was furious. "You know, you've always been a shitty liar. What's this really about?"

_Temper my dear. Jack is experiencing a lot of confusion at this present time and we would hate for him to snap._

"You _can't_ tell me or you _won't_? If you won't tell me what this is about then I'm hanging up… I told you, I'm fine! I'm great! I'm freaking ecstatic!" Lecter heard the sharp snap as Clarice closed the phone and the thump of it hitting the carpeted floors.

Her heart raced but whether it was as a result of her anger or her nerves, she wasn't sure. _Damn you Crawford! Way to ruin my goddamn morning._

She sighed loudly, almost a moan and then movement. Footsteps down the hallway, growing louder until they stopped outside of his door.

Her anxiety grew to irrational heights as she rethought her plan. She knocked lightly on the door.

He smiled to himself. "Come in Clarice."

The door inched open and Starling poked her head inside.

_Oh my god Doctor! Where's your shirt? _She drew a deep breath._ Let's pray you have pants on… Oh please, have pants on…_

Hannibal was sitting up in his bed and admired the way Clarice's cheeks turned dark pink as she was met with his bare chest.

'Oh.' she squeaked.

He forced his eyes to stay on hers, his stare burning her skin. "Good morning."

She turned her gaze to the ground, suddenly one hundred times more nervous.

_Don't chicken out. Stick to the plan!_

"Good morning Doctor." she spoke as confidently as she could, her voice even. "You probably heard me just now as I was talking to Mr. Crawford."

He nodded, anticipating her next move. "Yes. Thank you for keeping our whereabouts a secret. I rather like this hotel and it would be a shame for us if we had to move."

"Us? You mean if I had of told him where we are, you would still take me with you?"

Tilting his head he replied, "Only if that was what you wanted. This is a holiday, not a kidnapping. You are free to leave at any time you wish."

"Oh." she said again, moving to stand beside the bed. She motioned to the spacebeside him, her eyes locked on his. "May I?"

Lecter made not a sound. He simply nodded, patting the sheets beside him. Slowly, like a curious mouse approaching the lion, she lay down beside him on top of the sheets. Enough space was left between them so neither became distracted or uncomfortable.

"Now," he started. "What's on your mind Clarice?"

_Please be wearing pants…_

"The way Crawford was talking worried me."

"How so?"

"It was as if he thought I was in real danger. Like…" her eyes narrowed. "Like he knew I was with you." Though she was looking at Hannibal, she was talking more to herself. Lecter watched as she put the pieces together.

"I didn't take the letters with me… What if Ardelia comes to check on me and finds something unnusual? No, the note in the paper was too ambigious. So what was up with Crawford just now? I left the letter you sent me in my car, but he couldn't have found that, right? I mean, why would he be in my car?" she continued throwing questions at him, her eyes darting around the room, her fingers combing nervously through her hair. "Oh god, that was stupid! Why did I leave them behind?"

"So what if Jack knows?"

She stopped, looking at him as if he were mad.

"_What?"_

He shrugged.

"They could find you! You would go back to that _box_!"

"Do you care if I do?" he asked, too casually.

Her jaw dropped open. "Of course I care! I wouldn't be lying to save your ass if I didn't!"

"We have no need to shout. I was simply asking where your priorities lie."

She didn't have a clue. "Doctor?"

"Yes Clarice?"

"May I ask you a question?"

"Anything at all."

Taken aback by his openness, she took several deep breaths.

He stared into her bright eyes, so full of ambition. "Have you forgotten the rules of our game already? Quid pro quo Clarice. Are you ready?"

There was no inner debate. "Yes."

He wanted more than anything at that moment to question her further on the events of her dream but he knew that if he did, it would turn into something she was not yet ready for. That would come later. He hoped it would come soon but for her, he would wait as long as it took.

"At around one-thirty am, I heard you become restless. I could hear you tossing and turning in your sleep. This went on for a while, and then at around two am, you cried out for your father."

"Oh… my…" she stared incredulously at his hands resting in his lap, realised he might get the wrong idea and turned her gaze away to the bedside table, her eyes wide, her cheeks burning crimson. He did not move as she processed the information.

"What were you seeing?"

Her chest heaved as the nightmare replayed itself in her mind. Lecter watched. She opened her mouth to speak but shut it again and again. He was patient with her and waited until she felt ready to speak.

"It felt like I was losing him all over again." she whispered. Lecter waited in relative silence as she thought. "I was back in that barn and it was so cold… My Uncle owned a farm."

"Cattle?"

"Sheep and horses."

He nodded, encouraging her to continue.

"I was so scared but I had to see where it was coming from. I had to."

"Where what was coming from, Clarice?' he prodded, softly, carefully.

Starling raised her head and looked him in the eyes. "The screaming." she breathed.

He understood. This was a memory, not a nightmare.

"What did you do Clarice?"

"I did what my daddy told me to do. I ran. I ran and I left him behind. He called my name… I cried for him but I wasn't loud enough. I ran until I couldn't run anymore."

"You said your father died when you were ten?"

She nodded, a single tear sliding down her cheek. He reached for her, holding her tight against his chest. She was hesitant, layng her palm firmly on his pectoral muscle.

"Please just first tell me… are you wearing pants?"

He beamed, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

"Yes Clarice, I am wearing pants."

She blew out a puff of air, relieved. He chuckled as she locked her arms around his neck. He held her close, enjoying the light proximity of the moment. She didn't seem too keen to let go either.

_So much for the plan… over breakfast then._

"Clarice, the next time you have a dream of that nature, will you tell me?"

"You mean the next morning?"

"No."

She nodded into his neck. "Okay. I promise."


	11. Awkward

**Twisted Love Stories**

**Dream of Me**

**Chapter Eleven**

We should only ever leave a phone ringing for a maximum of nine rings. After that, we must accept the person we're calling is either out, asleep or ignoring the call. As Jack Crawford sat on the edge of his bed in a cheap hotel, the phone pressed hard against his ear, the ninth ring having elapsed some minutes ago, he hoped Clarice was sleeping.

He didn't mean to intrude in her private life, but she had no idea what she was getting herself into.

_Never forget what he is…_

He shook his head, as if doing this would rid him of the thought. She hadn't listened. That was why they were here.

The phone conversation earlier in the morning had been less than successful. He wanted to know why she was doing this to herself, and to him. But 'I want' doesn't get. In Jack's case, it created false hopes, caused his mind to conjure absurd happy endings.

_What has this monster done to Clarice? She was such an angel, such a straight arrow. I don't even know who she is anymore. I should never have sent her to him? It was me who introduced them so is it my fault?_

He shook his head again. Now was not the time to think about these things. Crawford had a job to do. He reached into his jacket and retrieved a crumpled note. After abandoning his second unanswered call to Starling, he reread the instructions, skipping completely over the first paragraph which he knew now contained only barbed words and poison ink.

He drew a deep, shaky breath and stuffed the note in his pocket again, sitting back in the taxi, staring blankly out the window.

* * *

><p>Lecter prided himself on being inconspicuous and stealthy in almost everything he did. He had smuggled Chilton's favourite gold pen to escape custody, remain three steps ahead of authorities almost his entire life, and travel to the Bahamas only two months after his escape. There was one flaw to his stealth though; Clarice.<p>

On a certain level, Clarice was tuned into the subtle actions and gestures made by her new roommate. She could tell when he was thinking, when he was considering, when he was waiting. He showed all the signs now. Not the signs of regular people. His mind was distant, his head tilted and his glance shooting once to his wrist watch. The action was so quick that had Clarice blinked, she would have missed it.

Knowing he would not give her a straight answer in his current state of awareness, she conjured a plan. They had not left Hannibal's bed yet, but neither seemed to mind. This detail even assisted in Clarice's plan.

_What can I say? You just seem to bring out my sinister side Count Lecter._

She moved her position from beside him to resting slightly on top of him, her hands on either side of his waist. She then inched her face closer to his, demanding his full attention. He complied, either confused or amused at her provocative attempts - she couldn't tell. Maybe it was a concoction of both.

"What are you waiting for Doctor?" she taunted. Her nostrils flared as she breathing in his unique scent.

"Waiting, Clarice? I am simply enjoying being freely in your company."

She smiled, feigning sheepishness. "What's the time?"

Showing his small white teeth in a playful smirk, he glanced again at his wrist watch.

"The time is ten twenty-two."

"So we should probably get up and do something soon. Celebrate your new-found freedom."

Lecter's eyes sparked with mischief. "I have something planned." then before she could reply, "But it's a surprise. Unfortunately my dear, you will just have to wait."

She pursed her lips, brushing her palm against his abdomen and watching the subtle tremors that ran up his spine. "Will I need to put clothes on?"

Lecter's eyes blazed and he shifting his weight so he was facing her, propping himself up with his elbow. "It is with a heavy heart that I suggest you wear something from your suitcases."

Clarice rolled lazily from Hannibal and onto the floor, landing with a slight thud and a small groan. "Oh, that was graceful…" she mumbled sarcastically.

"Clarice?"

"Jetlag."

"It was a six hour flight, my dear."

A beat. "Time travel does things to a person."

Hannibal turned so he was lying on his stomach, propped up by his elbows and facing Clarice. He silently admired how good she looked in silk. A quick glance at his watch, "I'm afraid the phone is down. Perhaps you could make your way to the front desk and ask for some fresh towels once you dress. I'll make us an omelette." He winked and her face burned.

She tucked her hair behind her ears, "Of course." she managed. She walked steadily past Hannibal who watched her with great interest as she padded through the lounge room and into her bedroom.

When she emerged in black slacks and a forest green tank top, he was busy in the kitchen preparing breakfast. She payed no attention to the three plates on the bench. When he heard the elevator start, he allowed himself a smile and followed after her.

Starling reached the lobby and smiled at a passing bell boy who was pushing a trolley full of baggage.

He nodded at her, "Morning Ma'am."

"Good morning." She directed her sight to the front desk and stopped dead in her tracks, her next breath catching in her throat. The bell boy was concerned.

"Ma'am, is everything alright?"

She managed to shake her head, her hands covering her gaping mouth. "No… No way. No fucking way." she hissed.

_It isn't real. It's all in your head. It isn't possible. He's not here. It isn't real._

The man at the front desk looked around nervously and Starling flung herself behind the pile of bags the bell boy was pushing. She crouched low, glaring through a hole in the wall of bags. The bell boy, whose name tag read Campbell, was beyond confused.

"Is there something I can-'

_"Shh!" _she cut him off, too afraid to breath, too enraged to blink.

* * *

><p>He knew what was happening as soon as he saw the last wisps of auburn hair disappear behind the trolley. Crawford was momentarily rooted in place. His feet felt like lead, his arms like dumbbells. It took everything he had not to let his knees buckle.<p>

_I shouldn't be here…_

He tried calling out her name but all that escaped his mouth was a strangled cry.

"Clar…" he tried again but to no avail. He stumbled forward, abandoning his suitcase. He saw her eyes widen considerably through the hole the bags made on the trolley.

He quickened his pace and she turned, making a merciless dash down the hallway. His heart ached. He raced after her, dodging a staff member, tripping over his own feet and hurtling directly into the stack of luggage. Campbell's jaw went slack, still struggling to process what was happening. Crawford scrambled to his feet, lurching after Clarice who was at the end of the hallway, her eyes darting everywhere, frantically pressing the button for the elevator.

"Clarice!" Just as Jack reached for her shoulder, Starling jumped back and the elevator doors opened. Crawford went down again, hard. His brows knitted together.

Jack's world began to fade, everything sounded like he was submerged in water. "Claaaariceee…"

There were two sparking maroon eyes hovering over him. He was dragged into the elevator. He smelt chloroform but apparently there was no need. Before the doors had even slid closed, his word faded to black.


	12. Tea Party

**Twisted Love Stories**

**Dream of Me**

**Chapter Twelve**

Starling paced the length of their suite, her hands shoved deeply into her pockets, gesturing now and then to the unconscious man on the love seat.

"I can't believe I was kept in the dark. _Again! _Do you have any idea what you've done?" Lecter simply sat next to Crawford, busying himself with preparing for his awakening. He used Jack's own handcuffs to attach his left wrist to his right ankle.

"What, so you're just gon' ignore me, is that it?" her accent became more prominent as her frustration grew. She sighed, throwing her arms in the air. "You only just got out. You couldn't have one day? Not even one? You really must miss that hell hole, Doctor."

"I assure you Clarice, there is a perfectly rational explanation."

"Yeah right. That's what guilty spouses say when they're caught cheating." she muttered.

"Are you suggesting that I am having secret relations with Jack behind your back, Clarice?"

She spun on her heel to face him, her hands now crossed in front of her chest. 'You can't tell me you haven't thought about it. I see how your eyes move, seeking out the things you want." she smirked, satisfied with her reply.

Lecter chuckled, "I am aware of my tendency to seek out what I desire." His eyes met hers then, the intensity of the stare taking her aback.

"This is serious." she said shaking her head. "Why did you do it?"

"Why do you seem to be more concerned about my recapture at the hands of this feeble man than the feeble man himself? Surely you must be aware of my reputation."

"I am Doctor. That is part of the reason I am not as concerned as I should be." She chose her words carefully, mentally slapping herself when she began to fiddle with the hem of her shirt.

"Please explain."

"Has Mr. Crawford ever done you any damage?"

"No."

"So what purpose do you serve by hurting him?"

"I have made no plans to harm him Clarice. I merely want to thank him."

"Come again?"

Lecter turned his attention to Crawford again as he began to stir.

"Clarice he is waking. Would you care to join us?" he patted the space next to him. Clarice rolled her eyes and made her way over.

Jack twisted as he regained consciousness, turning, his face burying itself in Lecter's neck. Jack's eyes fluttered open and closed again and he began to mumble. Starling's heart was pounding. The Doctor remained fully composed. He rested his hand on Clarice's thigh and when she raised an eyebrow, explained, "For show, of course."

"Hmm… morning." Jack slurred.

"Good morning Jack." Lecter greeted. Clarice covered her mouth to stay the giggles.

"Huh?" his eyes opened fully, his mouth wide in disgust. Crawford's face went white so fast that Clarice feared he had died on the spot. He spluttered and choked soundlessly, recoiling from Lecter's touch. He threw himself backwards but was unable to land gracefully due to his resemblance of a pretzel, landing hard on the floor by the love seat.

"Shh Jack. You're quite safe. However, we wouldn't want to silence you with duct tape. We would like to talk to like adults. Can you manage that?"

"Clarice?" he rasped.

"Good morning Sir." Her face was blank, her eyes void of emotion.

Crawford concentrated on the hand rested on her thigh. "Get your hand off of her!"

"Mr. Crawford, please." Starling pleaded. She hated most of the situation. She didn't want to see him hurt though. He was a sweet man; he didn't deserve that.

"Jack, it's so good to see you, though you look rather uncomfortable there on the floor. Would you care to join us in the dining room?"

"I… I can't… move." he managed.

"Not to worry. I will unlock your cuffs if you give me your word that you will not attempt to run or attack either one of us. If you go against your word, I assure you, the consequences will be severe. What do you say?" He felt the cold of his harpy against his forearm.

Clarice stiffened beside Hannibal, watching Jack intently as he processed his options.

_Dammit Jack, just go with it._

"Okay, okay. You have… my word."

Lecter stood and clapped his hands together, ensuring he made enough noise to make Jack jolt. His fear was exquisite. He reached into his pocket and retrieved a small silver key, twirling it in his fingers before taking a step forward. He wasn't surprised when Clarice stood abruptly, her arms stiff at her sides.

"Doctor?"

"Yes my dear?" he did not turn to face her, smirking at Crawford who had begun to shake.

"Would you allow me to escort Mr. Crawford to the dining room?"

"Of course. I'll be in the kitchen if you have need of me." Then to Crawford, "We're having ommelettes."

As he passed her, she nodded and he slipped the key into the pocket of her pants. Then he was gone, whistling his way into the kitchen. Clarice lent down beside her boss, his face white.

"Clarice, we have to get out of here." desperately, he whispered to her.

Her response; she withdrew the small silver key, holding it in front of his face. "If I unlock these cuffs, you will follow me to the dining room. You will not do anything that could find you dead. Is that understood?"

He nodded, completely speechless. He watched as Clarice brought the silver key toward the cuffs. He held his breath and forced himself not to flinch when she placed a hand on his wrist and smiled reassuringly at him.

"Sir, you don't have to worry. Everything will be fine."

"You don't know that." he muttered, his eyes downcast.

"I do. Doctor Lecter told me he wouldn't harm you."

He looked at her disbelievingly, "Don't be naïve Starling!"

"I'm not being naïve, Sir."

He dropped his eyes again to the carpet. He heard the snick of the cuffs releasing him and automatically, he snatched his hand away from her.

She sighed and stood, offering her hand to him. He eyed it for a moment incisively before hesitantly accepting her offer. She pulled him to his feet and watched as he regained his balance. He was shaky and his eyes were darting everywhere, landing on everything but her.

"I don't know what happened to you Clarice. Why are you doing this?"

She pulled her hand back and let her arms fall to her sides. "Nothing happened to me Sir. That's just it. This is me."

"You were such a straight arrow though. How did it get to this?"

"I suppose, a variety of things too in-depth to fully explain now. In short, if I didn't do this, I would spend my entire life thinking about what could have been."

"You say that like you have some sort of attachment to him. Do you... _like_ him?"

"Yes Sir, I do." she said without batting an eyelash, shoulders pushed back, back straight.

"You stayed the night."

She tilted her head and raised her eyebrows as if to say, _and?_

"Did you…"

"Not that it's any of your business, but no." _Not yet_, she added silently.

He wiped his face with the back of his hand, took a deep breath and looked her in the eye.

"Please follow me, Mr. Crawford."

He began to walk, Clarice beside him watching him from the corner of her eye. He could hear Lecter whistling a nameless tune from the kitchen. If it wasn't _him_ whistling it and he wasn't being held hostage, he would have said it was nice.

Starling stopped, gesturing toward an oak chair at the four seater table. "Have a seat."

Slowly, Jack slid out the chair from beneath the table and lowered himself, still distrusting his legs. He didn't look at all in Starling's direction. This frustrated her. She was not the enemy, and she would not be perceived as such. She remained standing.

"Excuse me Sir? If I may, I would like to offer you a more plausible excuse to my being here." He grunted his acknowledgement, focussing his attention on his loafers. "Initially, I had no plans to come here. In fact, if I had just gone to Memphis, spoken to him formerly like I should have, and gotten out of there, left the case file behind, I wouldn't be here now."

"Starling… what happened during that interview?"

"I… I can't explain it."

"Try." he ordered bluntly.

She sighed, flustered. "I had this dream a while back, before I knew he was being transferred. Somehow, don't ask me how, he knew. He pressed me for answers; it was like I had to tell him because-"

"Dream?" he looked up at her then, "What dream?" Hannibal's cheerful whistles mocked him.

"Just a dream, but-"

"What was the nature of the dream?"

This gave her pause. Lecter had asked her the same thing that day in Baltimore.

"It was… less than professional." she confessed in a whisper, her slick palms sliding together, her toes curling into the carpet nervously. The intense scrutiny of her boss pushed her heart rate higher and higher until she could hear it in her ears.

"What happened in the dream Clarice? Tell me what happened."

Her chest heaved with every short, ragged breath she forced herself to take.

_Are you afraid of what he'll think? Why should you care? Don't you want to make his day? Go on, tell him. That'll give him something to visualise!_

The voices wouldn't go away; they just came back louder and louder, repeating things to her that she wouldn't dare say to anyone, not even herself.

"Clarice, tell me-"

"We fucked! Okay? I dreamt of fucking Hannibal Lecter!" For the second time that morning, Jack's face drained of all colour. Realising how much of a mistake she had just made, Clarice's hands flew to cover her mouth. She heaved and bit into her palm in trying to regain control.

_What have I done?_

"Modesty is a far overrated virtue, Clarice." She spun, her hands still clasped tightly over her mouth. A quiet gasp escaped her that sounded oddly like a whimper.

"Hungry?" Lecter stood by the window holding a tea-tray and delicious smelling ommelettes. Jack did not move and Hannibal worried he had stopped breathing. Starling was rigid. She didn't move an inch.

"I've got to tell you; I have had far more enthusiastic tea parties." He swiftly made his way to the table and placed the tray in the centre. He placed the breakfast dishes down. On the tray was a small metal cup filled with sugar, a pitcher of milk and another filled with hot water with tea bag strings hanging over the lip. Lecter poured for Clarice first.

"Sugar? Milk?"

"Just sugar, thank you." Her voice had lost an amount of strength and she was still looking for it when he directed the same question to Jack.

"Please." Crawford's emotions were raging.

Lecter then poured for himself; black and one sugar.

He glided around the edge of the table and pulled out the chair opposite Jack, shifting his attention again to Clarice. "Sit, please."

She nodded and sat stiffly in the chair. Hannibal lingered, intent on watching Jack's reaction. He smoothed his hands over her shoulders and down her arms before taking a seat himself.

"Doctor," Crawford finally addressed him directly but had not yet summoned the strength to look at him.

"Yes Jack?"

"I don't… understand."

"Understand what? Please make an effort to be specific."

"I don't understand why I am here. With both of you. Why is Clarice here and why am I not dead yet?"

"It is of no concern to you why Clarice has chosen to join me here." Starling mentally thanked Lecter for keeping that aspect private. "You, on the other hand; I can tell you why you're here. You wanted to help Clarice, did you not? You wanted, maybe still want, to save her from herself and the big bad wolf that has _forced_ her to come here. I assure you I did no such thing. Clarice is here on her own terms and that is respected."

"Yes, but why did you invite me?"

"You were coming anyway Jack. I merely spared you the trouble of searching."

"Wait just a minute." Starling spoke up, her voice almost normal again. "How did you know about all of this?"

"I found that note in your car-"

_"What were you doing in my car?" _

Frightened by how royally pissed she was, Jack backpedalled as fast as he could. "It was unlocked-"

"So instead of locking it and walking away, you rummaged through my glove box?"

Lecter tsked him, taking a sip of his tea. "Rudeness is an epidemic."

"Clarice," he pleaded, ignoring Lecter's jibes as best he could. "Please. I'm sorry. I was worried…"

Hannibal drummed his fingers on the table until Jack risked a glance in his direction. He caught sight of his glowing crimson irises and was trapped, like a dear in the headlights. Or a rabbit in a bear trap.

"Jack. There is another reason I wanted you here today. I would like to express my gratitude. You brought Clarice to me. She is a magnificent gift, I must admit, but what were you doing, throwing her into the lion's den? I know you had heard stories, rumours, of what had become of my other visitors. Did you want that for Clarice? Did you want to be the shoulder she turned to when I had broken her? Did you really think that little of her? She is strong Jack. If you truly knew her, you would understand just how strong."

Jack turned to Clarice, furious.

"It matters Mr. Crawford. Students turn to you to see how to act. It matters."

"Point taken." he echoed.

"Right then." Hannibal chimed. "Don't get up. I'll clear."


	13. The Fiddleback

**Twisted Love Stories**

**Dream of Me**

**Chapter Thirteen**

If a portion of steel was made as fine as a spider's web, the steel and the web would both be the same strength. Not as weak as iron, not as soft as silver. A spider's web in the corner of the room captured Starling's attention. A string of the spider's silk descended from the body of the web and at the end, a fiddleback spider twirled in small circles. Starling remembered when she was eight years old and cleaning the attic with her father. He had lifted a box and the spider attempted to flee. The young Clarice squealed in theatrical fright, burying her face in her father's old shirt. He had explained to her that the spider was rare to see. You would need to go on a fiddleback hunt to catch a glimpse of the sequestered spider, or if you were one of the unfortunates to be bitten by one.

She would never forget that. The fiddle back represented something real and genuine, shared between a father and his daughter. She would hold that memory with everything she had.

"You know of the spider." Lecter's metallic voice gently shook her from her reverie.

"Yes, and I'm a bit confused about why it's so exposed." Jack looked over to Hannibal, then to Clarice, and back to Hannibal. He sat and watched silently, soaking in every detail of their peculiar relationship with curiosity and growing envy.

"I would have said he is just passing by." he mused.

"Then what of the web?"

"Yes, that throws me as well Clarice. The shy characteristic of the fiddleback may not be passed through every spider, but I imagine seeing him so comfortable and so exposed is a rare spectacle."

She nodded in agreement and hid her scepticism. What other possibilities were there? Clarice was careful to leave minimal room for conversation on the spider. It was a private memory she shared with her father and her father alone. She would not let anyone else into that memory. She would have it remain pure.

The fiddleback twirled a few more times and began to descend to the floor. Both Hannibal and Clarice watched mesmerized. Jack watched Hannibal and Clarice. The spider gracefully connected with the floor and glided in short bursts out of the room, keeping to the walls or undercover when cover was available.

Even after the spider no longer remained in the room, Clarice still stared after it, maybe in the hopes that she would see it again. Lecter moved silently from his seat at the dining table to behind Jack's chair. Crawford immediately stiffened.

"Jack, I do enjoy your company. Perhaps you would join Clarice and I for dinner."

Jack swallowed the lump in his throat before answering. "Dinner?"

"Yes Jack. Don't worry, nothing too sinister. Hmm, steamed salmon served with pak choy, a dry wine, perhaps Sauvignon Blanc, and I think raspberry fool to serve as desert. What do you think?"

_Did he have dinner already planned?_

Jack's muscles did not loosen as Lecter moved around Jack's chair to study his reactions. He didn't feel like he had much choice but was no longer fearful. His life had been spared thus far. If he chose to leave now though, would they let him?

"That sounds lovely Doctor Lecter." Jack managed in a breath.

Hannibal smiled at Clarice and placed a friendly hand on Crawford's shoulder. His breath hitched. "Then it's settled."

"Doctor?" Clarice said softly, pushing away her chair and standing. Lecter could hint the stern undertone.

"Yes Clarice?"

"May I speak to you in private for a moment?"

_Ah, and here it is. You took quite a while my dear. I am pleased._

"Certainly. Jack, please excuse us. We'll only be a moment." Hannibal followed Clarice into the kitchen, leaving Jack in a light-headed daze.

Clarice sighed, lifting herself onto the countertop and crossing her legs. Lecter quickly moved toward her and positioned himself in front of her, leaning forward and resting his hands on either side of her.

Shaking her head softly she asked, "What are you doing? And don't mess me around. I want a straight answer. None of your trivial bullshit."

"Are you worried about Jack?"

"Not his health. Initially I was, but not anymore. That's beside the point."

"Are you worried about me then, Agent Starling?"

"What?" Clarice uncrossed her legs and folded her arms, her eyes narrowed.

"If you are not worried about Jack's health, would you care to specify on what aspect of Jack's being here worries you?"

She bit her lip, attempting to hold back the string of curses that ran through her mind. _This was supposed to be about me asking him questions. What the hell happened there?_

"I'm not worried."

Lecter tsked her, tilting his head and taking a small step forward so his abdomen was pressed against Starling's knees. "Try again."

"What do you mean try again? No, I asked what you are doing and I didn't get an answer. So far, I've been spilling everything to you and what have you told me in return? Quid pro quo Doctor." She leant in, eyes still narrowed, until the only thing separating her lips from his was an unrestrained and very confused section chief in the next room. "It's your turn."

Using a concoction of his dungeon voice and Clarice's natural southern drawl, he asked, "Are you worried for me, Agent Starling?"

She didn't say a word. But she didn't have to. Her silence was the only confirmation Hannibal needed. He brought his hands to rest on her knees and gently pushed them apart. She responded with only slight hesitation by letting her legs swing forward and pressing her thighs softly to his hips. Hannibal took a strong step forward, pressing himself against her and watched with amusement as her breaths became shorter.

_Nervous are you my dear? And why is that I wonder…_

"You're impossible, you know that?" she growled, her voice hoarse with blatant desire.

"Yes I know." he joked in response. He leant in, closing his eyes and inhaling deeply, storing the scent of her shampoo into a room reserved for her in his memory palace.

Clarice let her eyes close lightly, anticipating the feeling of his lips, but instead felt his nose brush across her cheek. She leant into his touch as he moved to her neck. He planted a light, lingering kiss behind her ear, enjoying immensely the effect he as having on her. When he centred himself again, he opened his eyes briefly and noticed the deep blush in Clarice's cheeks and the heat of her face. Her eyes were still closed and her breathing began to return to its regular pace. Before the moment had passed, Hannibal lightly kissed the corner of her mouth.

While one hand stayed at her hip, the other trailed up her spine, eliciting a shudder from her that Lecter felt through the thin fabric of his trousers. He watched her intently, observing everything as he tried to depict what she would do next. He knew of course. She moved slightly closer, hesitantly, but drew back. She was unsure with him. She sighed softly and Lecter slowly let her down from the counter, hiding the amused smirk that played on his lips.

In the dining room, Jack Crawford tried to enjoy his few moments alone, knowing perfectly well that at any moment, the peaceful atmosphere would quickly altar to one of thick tension. But he could hear Clarice's giggles and the one playful squeal had almost pushed him off the edge. _He_ could elicit that sound from her. Jack relinquished the thought and moved on to more pressing topics.

_What's going to happen after dinner? Will I be able to leave or will I have to stay longer? What the hell can they be doing that is taking so long? I'm actually starting to miss the bastard. This room is creepy as anything… or maybe it's just the circumstances._

Jack ran his hands through his hair and blew out a gust of air. Starling entered the room then, followed close by Lecter. Very close. Crawford's eyes narrowed as he watched Clarice return to her seat, her cheeks flushed.  
>"Right," Lecter spoke, almost causing Crawford to flinch. "I best get dinner started. Clarice, would you mind entertaining our guest while I attend to our meal?"<p>

"Not at all Hannibal." Crawford felt the familiar pang of loss deep within his chest cavity and heaved against the weight as it bore down on him. Lecter observed Jack's response to the use of his first name on Starling's lips with amusement.

_Everything is a game._

Crawford turned toward Lecter as he headed back toward the kitchen, the smirk on his lips evident and his glee obvious.

"Sir," Clarice's tone was filled with concern. "Are you alright?"

Jack took several deep breaths, the anger and embarrassment bubbling inside him threatening to spill over the top. He knew that he didn't stand a chance of outsmarting Lecter, but maybe he would be able to overpower him.

Clarice's thoughts travelled from Crawford to the spider she had been given the opportunity to meet only minutes earlier. The fiddleback hides from the eyes of the world, using its invisibility as a defence mechanism. Crawford had put everything into the open; his feeling toward Clarice, the exact emotions he was feeling, everything, laid flat in front of him for everyone to see. Crawford was not Starling's fiddleback. He was a Huntsman; common and harmless. Hannibal on the other hand was mysterious. There was so much to know about him, and so little that she did know already. The fiddleback was magical, only unleashing its venomous bite when necessary. A fiddleback would never harm unless in danger of being harmed itself or to protect something.

Clarice briefly wondered if her fiddleback was protecting her from something, but only briefly.

"I'm fine Clarice, for now. But I think we need to have a little talk."


	14. Heart to Broken Heart

**Twisted Love Stories**

**Dream of Me**

**Chapter Fourteen**

Her palms were slick as they slid over her knees. She refused to let her gaze wander from his own. She bit down on the inside of her cheek, holding back the gush of excuses she wanted so badly to use. Clarice Starling didn't need excuses. She wasn't ashamed, nor was she embarrassed, though she believed she should be.

"Clarice, I want you to start at the beginning. When did this all start?" Jack Crawford asked, hands clasped in front of him and obviously more relaxed now that Lecter was no longer within ear shot - or so he assumed. "When did you start feeling something for Hannibal the cannibal Lecter?"

She bit her tongue, her hands forming fists in her lap.

"What? Say it - whatever it is you want to say. Say it."

_Hannibal the cannibal Lecter… Don't call him that… No, don't say it Clarice. You can prevent hell from breaking loose. Don't say it…_

"Say it Starling." he growled through clenched teeth.

_Move the fuck along! What was the question? When… Hannibal the cannibal Lecter… I can't not - Don't you dare say it! Why not? Because!_

"The second time I visited him.' Clarice drew in a deep breath, trying as hard as she could to push the intrusive thoughts from her mind.

"Starling… Clarice."

"Mr. Crawford."

Crawford sighed and leaned forward in his seat, crossing his forearms on the table in front of him. "Please, I think I have a right to know what's going on here. I was the one who sent you to that monster in the first place."

"If we're going to have a civilized conversation, you're going to need to stop insulting him like that. No more derogatory terms, no more demeaning nicknames."

"Are you _defending_ him?"

_Aw hell, here we go._

"He doesn't need defending. I am merely giving you tips on how to get out of here alive, sir."

And that was true; he didn't need defending, and behaving rudely was hazardous to Jack's health. What she had left out was whether she _was_ defending him, even accidentally, because she didn't know if she was or not. She hadn't meant for it to come across that way, but maybe that was how she had meant it. She shook her head, her eyes flickering for a moment to her pale white knuckles. Instinctively, she unclenched her fists, only to have them form again when he spoke.

"Fine Starling, but I want answers, and I want them now."

She just nodded and cocked her head slightly to the left.

"You look just like him when you do that."

"I'm not quite sure how I feel about you comparing me to him." There was a long silence as she assessed him. "Tell me, in what way did you intend that statement to effect me?"

"This is going nowhere. Why don't you just tell me what possessed you to come here with him? And please, please, be honest." The sincerity in his voice was enough to make her reconsider lying. That would be too easy. The Doctor would consider it rude - cheap.

"Honestly? Are you sure? You're not gonna like what I have to say."

"Tell me."

"I'm not fulfilled. Among other things."

"In what way?"

'Excitement, friends, intellect, lovers-"

"You consider Lecter your lover?"

"No."

"Then what?"

"Maybe potentially. I don't know."

"But you like him."

"Yes."

"A lot."

"If you know, why are you asking me? I'm not a criminal, don't interrogate me like one."

"How do I know you're not a criminal, hm?"

"If you want me to be completely honest with you then you're going to have to give something back. Quid pro quo. I tell you things, you don't comment negatively. Deal?"

"Deal. Tell me, please."

"The aforementioned _other things _could include… unresolved issues, lack of intillectual stimulation, sexual frustration..." she had to remind herself not to cringe as she said it.

"Sexual frustration?"

"That is what I said, yes, sir, but that isn't entirely-"

"You mean you actually want him to, um," Jack took a deep shaky breath, choking back the bitter bile climbing its way up his oesophagus. "fulfil you… sexually?"

"I suppose." her teeth ground against each other to prevent flipping the table. The hint of a smile graced her lips as she imagined his reaction if she did so. Not so much a smile, more of a sinister smirk.

He took another shaky breath, his eyes focussing on a fold in the curtains on the other side of the room. "Why him?"

Lecter had glided around the kitchen, focussing his attention on their dinner and purposely not listening to the conversation in the other room, but at this question, he couldn't help but pause.

_Why him? - Indeed Clarice, why me?_

His curiosity got the better of him and he listened carefully, awaiting her answer.

"If you'll pardon the term, Doctor Lecter isn't just a fuck buddy, Mr. Crawford. And if I were to tell you what I truly thought of him, I don't think you could understand."

"Starling, I thought we were being honest with each other. Go, try me."

Clarice leaned back in her chair, feigning contemplation, her arms crossed defiantly over her chest. She was terrified, but she felt compelled to do it anyway. "Why Doctor Lecter? Because he's the most understanding men I've ever met. He may not be as perfect as your Bella was but he's so principaled. He challenges me and everything I believe. He knows me, the good parts and the ugly parts and he still likes me. He hasn't left like the others.

"I know what he's capable of, and maybe I don't agree with the murders or the cannabalism but that isn't all he is. He's a man, and a damn fine one at that." She could read in Jack's face that he didn't understand.

* * *

><p>Dr. Lecter could scarcely contain his glee at the sound of her confession, but he was taken completely by surprise when she stormed into the kitchen, obviously livid, grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and forcefully pressed her lips against his. Her eyes shut tightly and he could smell the saltiness of her tears as they formed in her pale blue eyes amidst the sea of tangy aromas wafting from the evening's preparations. Hesitantly, Hannibal placed his hands lightly at her waist. She clung to him almost desperately, her teeth grazing his bottom lip.<p>

Hannibal closed his eyes, breathing deeply through his nose.

_She is aroused, but more so I believe she is confused, upset. If I push her away now, I may never get her back._

The Doctor was very still but was not discouraging. He allowed her to vent.

Clarice was panting by the time she forced herself to let go of him. Her heavy breathing tickled his lips. Slowly, so as not to startle her, he opened his eyes. She was already looking back at him through the veil of unshed tears. Lecter did not move however, his hands still lightly at her hips.

She nodded to him, a silent apology on her lips. He nodded and her hands slid from his now badly crumpled collar, to his chest and back to her slides. She continued into the master bedroom of their suite, closing the door behind her and collapsing onto the mattress.

Jack Crawford stood stunned, unmoving in the doorway to the kitchen, his mouth slightly open, the corners of his lips downturned into an almost permanent frown. His arms were limp and his legs trembled. Finally, Lecter looked up from his place in the middle of the kitchen. His expression was blank. That normally would have set off alarms in Crawford's mind but he was far too broken to care.

"Jack, you look positively exhausted. How rude of me not to have noticed before. Would you care for a nap before dinner? The guest bedroom is just there. Make yourself at home."

* * *

><p>Jack Crawford did not sleep. Rather, he sat, slumped and defeated on the edge of the guest bed. He didn't feel like a guest – not in the slightest. He had no doubt that should he attempt to leave, his throat would be cut. Or would it be Starling's Colt .45 that would do the job? No, such thoughts were incredulous. A death by Lecter's hand, however, was not so hard to fathom.<p>

_What part of me would that sick son of a bitch eat first?_

He willed his mind to go blank. He wished he could simply lay his tired head on the hotel's royal blue pillow and sleep until it was over. He would wake up in his usual empty bed and realise that all of it had only been a dream – a delusion created by his own mind.

Closing his eyes, he counted to one hundred, breathing in and out between each number. Still, he could not sleep. His mind was a mess.

The Section Chief was a storm, rage in the form of thunder echoed around him. The hale showed no mercy, plummeting to Earth and crumbling his safe haven. Lecter had waltzed into his cautious, dreary life with Starling on his arm and destroyed _everything_.

Gone was his haven. Jack Crawford was facing purgatory. He shook his head. "I've been well and truly mind fucked."

Dinner was approaching. He could smell the salmon and spices as they wafted into his room. The divine scent reminded him that his last meal had been lunch the previous day, and he was ravenous. He found himself hoping for a plate of what smelled like his own mother's cooking, and he didn't even bother to scold himself for it.

The opening and closing of a door nearby roused him from his musings.

In the kitchen, Hannibal Lecter looked up from his task as Clarice sheepishly crossed the threshold to him. She looked up, cheeks ablaze with what he knew as embarrassment.

He eyed her suspiciously, not deviating from the task at hand for even a moment. Clarice watched, mesmerized, as he cooked. He moved around the kitchen so easily. His practiced hands worked fast and precise.

_I wonder what else his hands can do…_

Her heart fluttered and she felt the blood pool in her cheeks, something she knew he would pick up on.

_Dammit! Not the time! Stop fantasizing, Clarice. Focus. Where did that thought even come from? Oh God, I'm so screwed._

_You wish, darling._

_Shut up, Brain!_

Leaning on the countertop, she spoke, clearly flustered, "It's pretty steamy in here."

_Well fuck, really? That's the best you've got? Why don't you just pop open your top button and sit yourself on the bench?_

"That it is, Clarice." he responded with a wink.

_Oh boy._

Wanting to change the subject, she asked, "Is there anything I can help you with?"

He paused as he considered the question. "Unfortunately my dear, I'm just about to plate. A shame really, I would have loved the opportunity to watch you work."

"One day, I'm sure."

'Yes…'

Fiddling nervously with her hands, Clarice stalled, searching for the right words.

_It's not that hard. Just apologize._

Knowing he would appreciate her courage, she jumped right in, "I'm sorry, Doctor."

He stilled his hands.

She continued, "Kissing you like that was rude of me. I didn't mean to offend you or put you in an awkward position."

"Clarice, the _position_ was _anything_ but awkward. There is no apology necessary, though I appreciate the gesture. I do very much enjoy kissing you."

Her cheeks flushed as she fought to hide her beaming smile. "Likewise Hannibal. You're very good at it."

"Thank you, my dear."

Her next question slipped out before she had a chance to think at all. "Have you had much practice?"

He plated the salmon as he replied. _My brave Clarice._

"I am anything but innocent, Clarice, and though I have not been with an abundance of women, I have studied the reactions of the women I _have_ been with, and built my skill upon that. I'm pleased to know it has paid off."

She spoke her sudden jealousy, "Forgive me, Doctor, if in comparison to these other women I am not as..." she seemed to struggle to find the words equal to the clusterfuck in her head. It confused her that he did not seem defensive in the least. He was smiling, humbled by her unawareness of how truly spectacular she was in his mind.

"Not as what, Clarice?"

"Not as… much." Her face revealed nothing.

"It certainly is quite something to know you in private life."

She remained silent for several minutes, watching as he plated the food perfectly onto each plate.

"The table is already set. Have a seat my dear, I'll be with you in a moment."

The Doctor left the kitchen and continued into the hall. He paused at Jack's door, knocked twice and waited.

The door opened and Jack Crawford stumbled out. Hannibal took a step back to examine the state of his guest. He looked starving and in desperate need of a long nap and perhaps a bubble bath. Stubble coated his face and bags weighed heavily under his eyes.

"Dinner is on the table. I expect you'll be joining us?"

Eyes painted empty, he looked up and quietly replied, "Yes, thank you. Fish, isn't it?"

"Salmon. Yes."

"Excellent."


	15. Holy Saviour

**Twisted Love Stories**

**Dream of Me**

**Chapter Fifteen**

The realisation sunk in through her skin like a disease. While she exchanged meaningful glances with a serial killer, her boss, the man who believed in and nurtured her career, sat in satisfied silence and watched. Starling wondered what he was thinking. Was it disgust that stayed his words, or was he lost in thoughts of his own?

She turned her attentions once again to Hannibal and felt her heart quiver like cranberry sauce dumped from a can when he winked at her. The heat of Jack Crawford's gaze burnt her and she lowered her head again to her meal; a delicious compilation of steamed salmon, pak choy, and a dry wine; Sauvignon Blanc. Jack had finished his wine and was now content with wolfing down his salmon.

The Doctor watched as he did so. "You're a thirsty boy, Jack. More wine?"

Crawford politely dabbed at his mouth with a napkin before replying. "Please."

Dinner proceeded without a hitch, and the dessert was served on the balcony overlooking the town, the ocean, the reefs which appeared black and glistening under the blanket of stars and planets. After countless glasses of wine, Jack had loosened enough to partake in conversation. He tuned in as Lecter was explaining the history of the island on which they took solace.

"San Salvador is recognized – arguably – as the location where Christopher Columbus first discovered the New World on October 12, 1492."

Jack noticed Starling wrapped up in his words, soaking in every ounce of it.

"Why is it arguable?"

"There is still debate among researchers, though I believe this is indeed the town where he made his discovery." He continued on. "Four separate monuments claim to mark the spot where Columbus first came ashore, though most regard Long Bay as the correct spot.

"The island was originally known as Guanahani by its first known inhabitants, the Lucayan Indians. The island was later the headquarters of the buccaneer George Watling which carried his name until 1925."

Like a child, Clarice lent forward, propped up by her elbows and questioned again, "San Salvador; that sounds Spanish. What does it mean?"

"Very Good Clarice, it is indeed Spanish. It means Holy Saviour."

The silenced that followed Lecter's translation was heavy with thoughts and memories.

_Holy Saviour._

Jack finally spoke his mind, open and clearly, "Bella was my Saviour."

Starling didn't reply. She was surprised, though she hid it well. What was he doing sharing such intimate thoughts with Hannibal Lecter? She watched, intrigued as the men conversed.

"You loved her very much."

"More than I can bear."

Hannibal cocked his head, his thoughts ran parallel to each other as he considered the implications of both possible courses of action, but decided to chase the road he believed to be more beneficial. "Tell me about it. Tell me about her death."

Jack swallowed hard. "Her death?"

Hannibal hummed. "How does that word taste?"

"Salty."

"Salty?" he echoed, amused.

"Salty and undeveloped. It's more than that."

"Tell me, Jack. Did you sign her death certificate?"

He nodded, "I did."

"What was that like?"

He looked around, at the vast horizon, the mirrored image of the moon on the water, and at Clarice. Her eyes told him he didn't have to follow this conversation.

"I remember being dazed when I walked into the council's office to register her passing. The certificate was laboriously scrawled with an old blue pen. The man at the desk asked me to read over the paper before signing it, so I did. Everything seemed to make sense until the part about my relation to the deceased."

Lecter drank his memories, savouring them in his memory palace. He bowed his head, "What did it say?"

"It was supposed to say Husband."

"But you couldn't make the spidery blue marks on the page form into that, could you?"

Jack shook his head.

"What did it say, Jack?"

He leant back in his chair, appearing relaxed, though inside he was struggling with the turmoil his wife had left him with. "I gave up and asked the man at the desk. Widower, he said, like it was some widely known fact. That was the first time I'd contemplated the word."

"And how did it taste?"

"Like nothing. I can't say the same for your dessert however, Doctor. This is delicious!" Jack gushed as he scooped another bite onto his spoon.

"Thank you, Jack, I'm pleased that you find it so. What do you think Clarice?"

She sat back, a devilish smile playing on her lips. "Like Jack said, delicious. I'm glad you can cook so well, because I can't cook worth a damn."

Hannibal's eyes sparked crimson as it caught the light of the moon. "Are you suggesting that I will have the privilege of cooking for you often, my dear?"

She hoped so, though she wasn't sure she should. Before she had a chance to answer, childish giggles erupted from the man beside her. Shocked, she spun and looked awkwardly at her boss.

His face red, he gasped, "It's funny… 'cause…" He struggled to speak through the laughter, "He's… _ahaha!_ A cannibal! Oh my…" Tears seeped through the edges of his eyes as he gasped for breath.

Hannibal and Clarice both looked at each other for a moment, and upon seeing the look on each other's faces, laughed with him. The Doctor's laugh was rich, like a fine wine – smooth and cultured. Clarice stopped and simply listened.

"Clarice?" Lecter questioned, curious by her sudden intensity.

She smiled and it reached her eyes. "You have a beautiful laugh."

He tilted his head, his eyes sparkling. _You are marvellous, sweet Clarice._

She turned once again to Crawford who was now busying himself with his reflection in a spoon. "Come on Jack. I think it's time for bed."

Concerned, thinking he had done something wrong, he looked at Hannibal. "Doctor? I haven't offended you have I? I didn't mean to. It's just that you, you know, eat people. I meant no disrespect, and I don't want to be _that_ guy."

Hannibal worked with his amusement. "_That_ guy, Jack?"

"Yeah," he shrugged, as if it was common knowledge. "The guy who takes it too far and ruins it for everyone."

Lecter raised a hand, "Not to worry, Jack. No offense is taken, though I appreciate your concern. We are among friends here."

Believing Clarice witness her boss blushing at Hannibal's declaration of friendship, she ushered him off the balcony and into the warmth of the suite before he did or said something _really_ stupid. "Say goodnight to Doctor Lecter." she prompted.

"Goodnight Doctor!"

He chuckled, "Goodnight Jack. Sweet dreams."

Clarice accompanied her plastered section chief to his bedroom and more-or-less tucked him in as if he were her own child.

As Clarice was leaving the room, an uncharacteristically small voice called from behind her, "Clarice?"

She turned, not wanting to get into a conversation that would surely end in Crawford falling over her, lips puckered, eyes open and hopeful. "Yes?"

He patted the space beside him. "Come sit for a second."

Dreading, she sought to avoid any more awkwardness. "I really think I should..."

"Just for a second!"

Emitting an exasperated sigh, she sat at the edge of his bed, fiddling awkwardly with her fingers in her lap.

He breathed deeply as if the more oxygen he breathed the more strength he possessed. "I'm really sorry, Clarice." he admitted guiltily.

"Oh, don't be. He doesn't mind you joking around, really."

Shaking his head, he clarified, "No. I'm sorry for judging you both so quickly."

Clarice was clearly taken aback. _Is this the alcohol making him crazy or is he being serious? _She could think of nothing to say. _What the hell was in that wine?_

"He's a better man than I thought he was."

"What…" _is this fuckery?_

"I can tell by the way you look at him."

"_Jack…_"

"That's how Bella..." his eyes were downcast and empty.

Starling placed a sensitive hand over his and squeezed gently. "I know, Jack."

"Don't let him go, Starling. Don't make my mistake." He looked up then, eyes clear but words slurred. "That's an order."

* * *

><p>Lecter was waiting for her on the couch when she emerged from the Twilight Zone. He could tell immediately by her face that something had happened. Instantly believing Jack had made a drunken move on her, he stood, annoyance veiled by his ever present demeanour. "Clarice? Is something the matter?"<p>

Something was indeed on her mind. Did Jack Crawford just give them his _blessing? _And if so, did he mean it or was it simply alcohol induced babble? It hadn't sounded like it.

_What the fuck? What the actual fuck?_

"Clarice?"

Startled, she stopped in her tracks. "Doctor, I didn't see you there."

Tilting his head he mused out loud. "Evidently not." Certain her unusual behaviour had been triggered by something Jack had done, and not something he had said, he moved closer, reached out and stroking the tops of her arms with his fingertips. He was concerned that something inappropriate had taken place. His mind searched for answers. _If I ask her outright she may be upset. How best to elicit the desired response then Clarice? You are a mystery, a constant challenge. A maze, if you will. How best to find my way around your many dead-ends and to the centre?_

"Is our boy sleeping?"

Clarice hummed, glad for his touch. "Yeah, our boy's had a big day. He's all tuckered out."

Hannibal offered a crooked smile. "You're too good to him, tucking him in like you do. He's lucky to have you, Clarice."

"He does not _have_ me."

_Ah, I see. Why the defence? _"Of course, I apologize. You are your own person. I simply meant he is lucky to have you in his life."

Examining their bare feet, she muttered, "I know what you meant." She shrugged. "I just want to make sure you know I can't be owned."

"Ahh," he breathed, drawing her ever closer. "One of my favourite things about you, Clarice." Running the tip of his nose along her cheek, he questioned further, "I do hope Jacky Boy enjoyed the meal. Did he say anything?" She seized beneath his touch and he knew he was getting warmer.

"He, uh… he loved the meal. I think he had a few too many glasses of wine though."

"Oh? I think it's good for him. I was simply helping him get a little more _fun_ out of life." He finished with a wink. "I hope you didn't cause you too much distress, Clarice."

"Distress?"

"We both know about the school girl crush he has on you, my dear. I can't say I can blame him. You are truly magnificent."

Pink stained her cheeks. "Oh. I don't think… well. His wife… her death was only a few months ago. He's still in really bad shape. He misses her - a lot. I remind him of Bella." She looked down again. "He doesn't want a relationship, or anything akin to one. He wants his love back."

Carefully, Hannibal lifted her chin to reveal her tear stained face. Without a word, he wraped his arms tightly around her. She responded by burying her head in his neck.

_Get it together! Clarice Starling does not cry. She is a warrior. She doesn't cry_

While she struggled to compose herself, Hannibal stroked her hair, whispering words of comfort in her ear. _If Jack hasn't made an advance toward you, Clarice, then what has he done to make you reel?_


End file.
